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By Jake Hawkins
LONDON
1650
Mary Seward watched the flames engulf the entire neighborhood, the screams of the fire's victims a pleasing sound to go with her view. A hazy, gentle mist floated on the brisk November wind before turning into the shape of a man, Mary’s husband. The vampire born Andrew Bennett appeared on the rooftop next her, his eyes wide in shock at the sight in front of him.
I suppose this should have been the moment. The second I saw what she had done, I shouldn’t have hesitated to cut her head off. Love has a way of shutting off basic practicality in favor of blind irrational behavior. And as I watched families burn alive for the sake of Mary doing what she called “teaching the food a lesson”, I wondered what I had unleashed for the sake of my love. And then I asked the more important question, what was I ready to endure?
“I know you’re mad. But this couldn’t be helped.” Mary told her husband, finally standing up and dropping the body of the man she had been feeding on. Andrew glanced at the body, noticing the man’s skull had been bashed in viciously by Mary. Mary wrapped her arms around her husband, laying her head on his chest before swaying back and forth with him gently.
“Mary…I didn’t ask you to join me for this. None of this, despite what we are, is necessary.” Andrew explained, finally looking at his wife’s face. “We have no right to be executioners.”
“This wasn’t out of justice or revenge. This was about survival. We are the next step on the chain, there isn’t a single reason we should be cowering in the shadows.” Mary responded firmly. She turned away from Andrew, sauntering towards the edge of the roof before stepping off, her body dancing and twisting as it turned to mist. Andrew took a deep breath and did what he knew he had to do, followed. His body slowly changed as well, and he rose into the air after her.
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
1967
A police officer cocked his shotgun before aiming it at a young couple, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to fire. “You all shouldn’t be out past the curfew. Empty your pockets now!”
The two of them quickly placed their wallets in front of them and some scattered pieces of change, the girl emptied out her purse on to the sidewalk. They both sat upright, their hands in the air as they trembled with fear.
“Sir we ain’t taking part in none of this looting or nonsense out here. We were just on our way home from the movies, I swear.” The young man pleaded their case, but in return received nothing but a blow from the butt of the shotgun across the mouth.
“I didn’t ask you a damn thing boy!” The officer barked. Tears streamed down the young girl's face, and as she looked up at the police officer her eyes caught sight of the largest bat she’d ever seen swooping directly towards the officer. “I guess it falls upon me to teach you n- “
Before he could finish the sentence, the bat had morphed into Mary, whose teeth sunk deep into the officer's neck, blood spewing from the wound and on to the sidewalk as she enjoyed her evening meal. She dropped the officer once she was finished, his body crumpling like a used napkin on the sidewalk in the dogged summer heat.
“Thank you, ma’am.” The girl managed to stammer, she and her boyfriend at a loss for what they had just seen. They both slowly rose to their feet as Mary’s eyes fell on them. In a blur she was on top of them, blood stained fingers wrapped around the young man’s neck, her grip so tight she threatened to crush his windpipe as she slowly picked him up off his feet.
“He was just an appetizer.” She growled as her jaw widened, exposing her razor-sharp teeth.”
“Daisy...run. Please.” The young man managed to gasp as his eyes cut over to his date.
“Mary, that’s enough.” Mary rolled her eyes at her husband’s command, and she dropped the young man. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed Daisy by the wrist before sprinting down the street. Mary turned and let out a low growl, angry her husband had allowed her prey to scurry out of her grasp.
Minutes later they stood in the press box of the Fox theatre. The Dramatics performed their third encore of the night to raucous applause on the stage below. Mary sat next to Andrew, watching him sip a bag of donated blood stolen from a nearby hospital.
“I don’t understand why you prefer to debase yourself instead of embracing your god given right.” Mary hissed, her disdain for Andrew’s earlier actions setting her off.
“You call trying to hold on to whatever may be left of your soul debasing yourself. I don’t know why you think just because we are what we are it entitles us to slaughter as we see fit.” Andrew sighed as he tossed the empty container away and turned to his wife, putting his arm around her as he laid his head on his chest and watched the show. “Look at everything we’ve seen from humanity up until now. Look at what’s going on right outside this building. You want our kind to survive, you think we have a chance if you show the human’s we aren’t any more than the monsters they dread us being?”
“We shouldn’t have to change what we are, to cower in the face of their fear and live our lives cutting corners.” Mary whispered softly, watching people below them get out of their seats and dancing enthusiastically. “Men have dominated this planet for centuries and now something has come along to replace them as the dominant species in this world, us. I spent an entire life shrinking and bowing to people who thought I belonged beneath them. Then you saved me, gave my eyes a glimpse at what life was truly meant to be, and I thank you for that. I love you for that.” Mary kissed him softly right under his chin as she looked into his eyes.
“But..” Andrew whispered.
“But you can’t ask me to be something that’s dead and buried. If we give the livestock license to dominate us, they will use their fear mongering and their knack for spewing hatred as a call to arms and eliminate us. Could you live for an eternity knowing you could have been the difference between our extinction?” Mary got to her feet and walked towards the door of the press box, pausing for a moment next to the cooler full of the stolen packs of blood. She grabbed one of the packs out of the cooler and tossed one onto Andrew’s lap. “Drink up then. Be the house pet they’ll train you to be.”
If I’m being honest, I should have known the moment I bit her that she had changed, and not just in the obvious ways. I released a demon in almost every sense of the word, a plague that I refused to put a stop to when I had opportunity after opportunity to do the right thing. If history ever gets ahold of my story, I pray my love for Mary isn’t seen as selfish, or so blind it brought society to ruin.
NEW ORLEANS
NOW
Andrew Bennett sat at a table in Café Du Monde, brushing off the waitress who continuously tried to take his order. He looked up just as Zatanna entered the café, her smile doing what it could to improve his mood.
“I swear you vampires don’t look like you enjoy never sleeping even remotely. If I’m being honest, it’s one of the few things you all have going for you I’m a bit jealous of. I could catch up on so many books...”Zatanna trailed off as the waitress approached once again.
“Hi can I get you anyt- “
“We’re good.” Andrew answered tersely. His eyes glancing up at the mid-day sun. Zatanna shot him a look before answering for herself.
“I’ll have a couple of beignets, thank you.” Zatanna replied before turning to Andrew. “You’re a little higher strung than usual.”
“Sixty people were killed last night in Baton Rouge. Half of them ripped apart.” Andrew slid his phone across the table and Zatanna began to thumb through the photos he had taken of the crime scene.
“You think it was her?” Zatanna asked as she slid the phone back and the waitress brought her food. She handed the waitress a five-dollar bill and gave her a warm smile before taking a bite of her beignet.
“Her scent wasn’t anywhere near the place. I think she’s got some humans working under her, so I did some digging. You ever heard of a place called the black church?” Andrew asked her as he glanced around the room, making sure their conversation wasn’t being overheard.
“Yes, they’re a group of radicals who worship vampires, hoping that they will be allowed to join the swelling ranks. Although I’ve never heard of them being stateside.” Zatanna answered, surprised that the black church was capable of the brutality she had seen in the photos.
“What do you mean? How big of a group are we talking about?”
“I first encountered them in New Zealand a few years ago. I caught them dabbling in some rather nasty black magic as they tried to bring a supposed descendant of Cain back to life.” Zatanna explained. “I never figured their influence spread this far.”
“They could be working under her now. She’s always had a way of wrapping people around her.” Andrew lamented, frustrated that he felt like he was hitting another dead end.
“What’s your next move?”
“I tracked those scents here. I’ll run across some members of this church soon and ask a few questions.” Andrew informed her.
“I’ve heard she’s got a small army around her now.”
“One I will kill soon enough.” Andrew promised her.
“And what about her?” Zatanna asked him the question she knew he didn’t want to hear. The one she knew he’d been avoiding for centuries.
“I’ll do what I must.” Andrew responded curtly as he got up from the table. “It was good seeing you Zee.”
“Yeah you too. Maybe one of these days I’ll see you smile for once.” Andrew paused, appreciating the gesture from Zatanna before heading out of the café.
ST. LOUIS CEMETERY #1
NEW ORLEANS
Alister led a small group of men and women through the “city of the dead”, his patience beginning to wane for the self-proclaimed Queen of Blood.
“Is that a hint of annoyance I smell on you Alister?” The black church members turned to see Mary sitting on top of a nearby crypt. “That’s funny, I expected nothing less but gratitude.” Mary leaped from the crypt, landing silently in front of the group. “I trust you haven’t come empty handed, despite appearances.”
“We have our offering, as promised.” One of the church members boasted, and Alister held up a hand to signal for his silence.
He walked a few feet ahead and stopped in front of a mausoleum, pulling a key from his pocket before opening the door. He stepped aside, gesturing for Mary to look, to which she obliged. Inside the mausoleum were eight men and women all bound, gagged, and blindfolded. She stepped back out, a rather pleased smirk on her face as she approached Alister.
“I do appreciate the nice fat herd you’ve managed to round up. So much so that if I wasn’t a queen my mouth would be watering now. But we have a problem.” Mary told Alister as she laid eyes on the group he’d brought along.
“Problem?” Alister repeated, his confusion apparent.
“Several actually.” Mary responded, and Alister realized what the Queen of Blood was alluding to. He took a deep breath, and merely nodded before stepping aside. Mary smiled before morphing into a massive wolf-like beast and attacking the other members of the church. Alister refused to turn away, watching as Mary ripped through his former acolytes with unbridled ferocity. The hostages inside the mausoleum began to whimper, the sounds of Mary’s feast giving them an idea of what they were in store for. Once she had finished Mary returned to her usual form, licking her lips as she approached Alister.
“I think it’s time the black church was...repurposed. Under my guidance, it will become a greater entity than even your broad ambitions could have imagined.” Mary assured him as she turned her attention to the hostages in the crypt. “Now that I’m just positively stuffed, the rest of you can dig in.”
Alister glanced around the cemetery and was shocked to see a horde of vampires emerging from all around him. As they began to close in on the hostages, a swirl of mist appeared behind one of Mary’s horde, forming into Andrew, who immediately plunged his sword directly into the back of its head. Andrew locked eyes on Mary, who returned his gaze, rather amused he had managed to track her down.
“Call them off. You know damn well how this will end.” Andrew told her, his eyes darting back and forth across the cemetery as the horde turned their collective attention to him.
“Yes, yes I do. I’ve been anticipating this day since we spent that night in LA together. What year was that? 92?” Mary taunted as she leaped on top of the mausoleum, ready to get a bird’s eye view of the oncoming action. “This ends with me cutting off your head. Not because I want to, but because my people deserve to inherit this earth. It is what they were born to do.”
A vampire leaped at Andrew from behind, and Bennett sidestepped the lunge, sending the creature sprawling into the dirt. Andrew grabbed the vampire off the ground by the back of the neck and tossed him at a crypt behind him, the force of the impact shattered the stone door in half. Another vampire surged towards Andrew, and in one fluid motion he grabbed the hatchet off his hip and decapitated the creature with ease. A fire danced behind Mary’s eyes as she watched Andrew dispose of the vampire horde, as she was enthralled watching him kill. She morphed into a massive bat and swooped towards Alister, grabbing him with her teeth by the back of the shirt and taking off into the air.
Andrew watched her depart as he shoved a sword through the heart of the last vampire, frustrated he had allowed her to escape. He placed the sword back into the sheath on his back before heading into the crypt full of hostages and cutting them free one by one. “Get out of here. Don’t bother running to the police, they’ve probably got a few of their own in there.” Andrew instructed the survivors as they took off from the cemetery.
Maybe I’m an idiot, no let’s call a spade a spade. I know I’m an idiot, but I haven’t lost an ounce of hope that maybe there’s a shred of the woman I fell in love with locked inside that beast. This burning notion of hope is why I know when the time comes to do what is necessary, I’ll falter. And when that time comes, god help us all.
TO BE CONTINUED IN RED HOOD AND THE OUTSIDERS
1650
Mary Seward watched the flames engulf the entire neighborhood, the screams of the fire's victims a pleasing sound to go with her view. A hazy, gentle mist floated on the brisk November wind before turning into the shape of a man, Mary’s husband. The vampire born Andrew Bennett appeared on the rooftop next her, his eyes wide in shock at the sight in front of him.
I suppose this should have been the moment. The second I saw what she had done, I shouldn’t have hesitated to cut her head off. Love has a way of shutting off basic practicality in favor of blind irrational behavior. And as I watched families burn alive for the sake of Mary doing what she called “teaching the food a lesson”, I wondered what I had unleashed for the sake of my love. And then I asked the more important question, what was I ready to endure?
“I know you’re mad. But this couldn’t be helped.” Mary told her husband, finally standing up and dropping the body of the man she had been feeding on. Andrew glanced at the body, noticing the man’s skull had been bashed in viciously by Mary. Mary wrapped her arms around her husband, laying her head on his chest before swaying back and forth with him gently.
“Mary…I didn’t ask you to join me for this. None of this, despite what we are, is necessary.” Andrew explained, finally looking at his wife’s face. “We have no right to be executioners.”
“This wasn’t out of justice or revenge. This was about survival. We are the next step on the chain, there isn’t a single reason we should be cowering in the shadows.” Mary responded firmly. She turned away from Andrew, sauntering towards the edge of the roof before stepping off, her body dancing and twisting as it turned to mist. Andrew took a deep breath and did what he knew he had to do, followed. His body slowly changed as well, and he rose into the air after her.
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
1967
A police officer cocked his shotgun before aiming it at a young couple, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to fire. “You all shouldn’t be out past the curfew. Empty your pockets now!”
The two of them quickly placed their wallets in front of them and some scattered pieces of change, the girl emptied out her purse on to the sidewalk. They both sat upright, their hands in the air as they trembled with fear.
“Sir we ain’t taking part in none of this looting or nonsense out here. We were just on our way home from the movies, I swear.” The young man pleaded their case, but in return received nothing but a blow from the butt of the shotgun across the mouth.
“I didn’t ask you a damn thing boy!” The officer barked. Tears streamed down the young girl's face, and as she looked up at the police officer her eyes caught sight of the largest bat she’d ever seen swooping directly towards the officer. “I guess it falls upon me to teach you n- “
Before he could finish the sentence, the bat had morphed into Mary, whose teeth sunk deep into the officer's neck, blood spewing from the wound and on to the sidewalk as she enjoyed her evening meal. She dropped the officer once she was finished, his body crumpling like a used napkin on the sidewalk in the dogged summer heat.
“Thank you, ma’am.” The girl managed to stammer, she and her boyfriend at a loss for what they had just seen. They both slowly rose to their feet as Mary’s eyes fell on them. In a blur she was on top of them, blood stained fingers wrapped around the young man’s neck, her grip so tight she threatened to crush his windpipe as she slowly picked him up off his feet.
“He was just an appetizer.” She growled as her jaw widened, exposing her razor-sharp teeth.”
“Daisy...run. Please.” The young man managed to gasp as his eyes cut over to his date.
“Mary, that’s enough.” Mary rolled her eyes at her husband’s command, and she dropped the young man. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed Daisy by the wrist before sprinting down the street. Mary turned and let out a low growl, angry her husband had allowed her prey to scurry out of her grasp.
Minutes later they stood in the press box of the Fox theatre. The Dramatics performed their third encore of the night to raucous applause on the stage below. Mary sat next to Andrew, watching him sip a bag of donated blood stolen from a nearby hospital.
“I don’t understand why you prefer to debase yourself instead of embracing your god given right.” Mary hissed, her disdain for Andrew’s earlier actions setting her off.
“You call trying to hold on to whatever may be left of your soul debasing yourself. I don’t know why you think just because we are what we are it entitles us to slaughter as we see fit.” Andrew sighed as he tossed the empty container away and turned to his wife, putting his arm around her as he laid his head on his chest and watched the show. “Look at everything we’ve seen from humanity up until now. Look at what’s going on right outside this building. You want our kind to survive, you think we have a chance if you show the human’s we aren’t any more than the monsters they dread us being?”
“We shouldn’t have to change what we are, to cower in the face of their fear and live our lives cutting corners.” Mary whispered softly, watching people below them get out of their seats and dancing enthusiastically. “Men have dominated this planet for centuries and now something has come along to replace them as the dominant species in this world, us. I spent an entire life shrinking and bowing to people who thought I belonged beneath them. Then you saved me, gave my eyes a glimpse at what life was truly meant to be, and I thank you for that. I love you for that.” Mary kissed him softly right under his chin as she looked into his eyes.
“But..” Andrew whispered.
“But you can’t ask me to be something that’s dead and buried. If we give the livestock license to dominate us, they will use their fear mongering and their knack for spewing hatred as a call to arms and eliminate us. Could you live for an eternity knowing you could have been the difference between our extinction?” Mary got to her feet and walked towards the door of the press box, pausing for a moment next to the cooler full of the stolen packs of blood. She grabbed one of the packs out of the cooler and tossed one onto Andrew’s lap. “Drink up then. Be the house pet they’ll train you to be.”
If I’m being honest, I should have known the moment I bit her that she had changed, and not just in the obvious ways. I released a demon in almost every sense of the word, a plague that I refused to put a stop to when I had opportunity after opportunity to do the right thing. If history ever gets ahold of my story, I pray my love for Mary isn’t seen as selfish, or so blind it brought society to ruin.
NEW ORLEANS
NOW
Andrew Bennett sat at a table in Café Du Monde, brushing off the waitress who continuously tried to take his order. He looked up just as Zatanna entered the café, her smile doing what it could to improve his mood.
“I swear you vampires don’t look like you enjoy never sleeping even remotely. If I’m being honest, it’s one of the few things you all have going for you I’m a bit jealous of. I could catch up on so many books...”Zatanna trailed off as the waitress approached once again.
“Hi can I get you anyt- “
“We’re good.” Andrew answered tersely. His eyes glancing up at the mid-day sun. Zatanna shot him a look before answering for herself.
“I’ll have a couple of beignets, thank you.” Zatanna replied before turning to Andrew. “You’re a little higher strung than usual.”
“Sixty people were killed last night in Baton Rouge. Half of them ripped apart.” Andrew slid his phone across the table and Zatanna began to thumb through the photos he had taken of the crime scene.
“You think it was her?” Zatanna asked as she slid the phone back and the waitress brought her food. She handed the waitress a five-dollar bill and gave her a warm smile before taking a bite of her beignet.
“Her scent wasn’t anywhere near the place. I think she’s got some humans working under her, so I did some digging. You ever heard of a place called the black church?” Andrew asked her as he glanced around the room, making sure their conversation wasn’t being overheard.
“Yes, they’re a group of radicals who worship vampires, hoping that they will be allowed to join the swelling ranks. Although I’ve never heard of them being stateside.” Zatanna answered, surprised that the black church was capable of the brutality she had seen in the photos.
“What do you mean? How big of a group are we talking about?”
“I first encountered them in New Zealand a few years ago. I caught them dabbling in some rather nasty black magic as they tried to bring a supposed descendant of Cain back to life.” Zatanna explained. “I never figured their influence spread this far.”
“They could be working under her now. She’s always had a way of wrapping people around her.” Andrew lamented, frustrated that he felt like he was hitting another dead end.
“What’s your next move?”
“I tracked those scents here. I’ll run across some members of this church soon and ask a few questions.” Andrew informed her.
“I’ve heard she’s got a small army around her now.”
“One I will kill soon enough.” Andrew promised her.
“And what about her?” Zatanna asked him the question she knew he didn’t want to hear. The one she knew he’d been avoiding for centuries.
“I’ll do what I must.” Andrew responded curtly as he got up from the table. “It was good seeing you Zee.”
“Yeah you too. Maybe one of these days I’ll see you smile for once.” Andrew paused, appreciating the gesture from Zatanna before heading out of the café.
ST. LOUIS CEMETERY #1
NEW ORLEANS
Alister led a small group of men and women through the “city of the dead”, his patience beginning to wane for the self-proclaimed Queen of Blood.
“Is that a hint of annoyance I smell on you Alister?” The black church members turned to see Mary sitting on top of a nearby crypt. “That’s funny, I expected nothing less but gratitude.” Mary leaped from the crypt, landing silently in front of the group. “I trust you haven’t come empty handed, despite appearances.”
“We have our offering, as promised.” One of the church members boasted, and Alister held up a hand to signal for his silence.
He walked a few feet ahead and stopped in front of a mausoleum, pulling a key from his pocket before opening the door. He stepped aside, gesturing for Mary to look, to which she obliged. Inside the mausoleum were eight men and women all bound, gagged, and blindfolded. She stepped back out, a rather pleased smirk on her face as she approached Alister.
“I do appreciate the nice fat herd you’ve managed to round up. So much so that if I wasn’t a queen my mouth would be watering now. But we have a problem.” Mary told Alister as she laid eyes on the group he’d brought along.
“Problem?” Alister repeated, his confusion apparent.
“Several actually.” Mary responded, and Alister realized what the Queen of Blood was alluding to. He took a deep breath, and merely nodded before stepping aside. Mary smiled before morphing into a massive wolf-like beast and attacking the other members of the church. Alister refused to turn away, watching as Mary ripped through his former acolytes with unbridled ferocity. The hostages inside the mausoleum began to whimper, the sounds of Mary’s feast giving them an idea of what they were in store for. Once she had finished Mary returned to her usual form, licking her lips as she approached Alister.
“I think it’s time the black church was...repurposed. Under my guidance, it will become a greater entity than even your broad ambitions could have imagined.” Mary assured him as she turned her attention to the hostages in the crypt. “Now that I’m just positively stuffed, the rest of you can dig in.”
Alister glanced around the cemetery and was shocked to see a horde of vampires emerging from all around him. As they began to close in on the hostages, a swirl of mist appeared behind one of Mary’s horde, forming into Andrew, who immediately plunged his sword directly into the back of its head. Andrew locked eyes on Mary, who returned his gaze, rather amused he had managed to track her down.
“Call them off. You know damn well how this will end.” Andrew told her, his eyes darting back and forth across the cemetery as the horde turned their collective attention to him.
“Yes, yes I do. I’ve been anticipating this day since we spent that night in LA together. What year was that? 92?” Mary taunted as she leaped on top of the mausoleum, ready to get a bird’s eye view of the oncoming action. “This ends with me cutting off your head. Not because I want to, but because my people deserve to inherit this earth. It is what they were born to do.”
A vampire leaped at Andrew from behind, and Bennett sidestepped the lunge, sending the creature sprawling into the dirt. Andrew grabbed the vampire off the ground by the back of the neck and tossed him at a crypt behind him, the force of the impact shattered the stone door in half. Another vampire surged towards Andrew, and in one fluid motion he grabbed the hatchet off his hip and decapitated the creature with ease. A fire danced behind Mary’s eyes as she watched Andrew dispose of the vampire horde, as she was enthralled watching him kill. She morphed into a massive bat and swooped towards Alister, grabbing him with her teeth by the back of the shirt and taking off into the air.
Andrew watched her depart as he shoved a sword through the heart of the last vampire, frustrated he had allowed her to escape. He placed the sword back into the sheath on his back before heading into the crypt full of hostages and cutting them free one by one. “Get out of here. Don’t bother running to the police, they’ve probably got a few of their own in there.” Andrew instructed the survivors as they took off from the cemetery.
Maybe I’m an idiot, no let’s call a spade a spade. I know I’m an idiot, but I haven’t lost an ounce of hope that maybe there’s a shred of the woman I fell in love with locked inside that beast. This burning notion of hope is why I know when the time comes to do what is necessary, I’ll falter. And when that time comes, god help us all.
TO BE CONTINUED IN RED HOOD AND THE OUTSIDERS
By Stuart Fairchild
“9-1-1, how can I help you?”
There was a brief delay but a voice responded no louder than a whisper. “Help me.”
“What is happening, mam?” The dispatcher asked. “Where are you?”
Faint, frantic breathing could be heard as the operator waited for a response.
“…Please!”
“Mam, where are you. Are you in danger?”
“He is home now. Please help me.” A dial tone ended the conversation perplexing the dispatcher.
Liberty Hills, Iowa
There are towns across the planet that are all but forgotten, empty shells of their former selves just begging to tell their story. Only a few know where these towns dwell. Even fewer dare to step foot on their boundaries. This town was one of those towns, filled with white picket fences block upon block. Everyone congregated to the local church and hospitability extended to everyone from local to visitor. There was something about the town from the aroma of apple pie in the wind or the kids laughter scattered aloud randomly. It was one of those towns everybody knew each other and few wanted to leave.
One day the sun had set in the town only for it not to rise again. It had become a fading memory to many. To some just a myth. What happened to the town was unknown. The only certain thing was that it was never the same again. No one had graced the town since that day – until the Spectre came.
The Spectre walked into the now dilapidated town, his green cloak dragging upon the streets that hosted many parades and town festivals in its time. Disrepair and ruin lingered throughout as far as he could see. He came up onto a school playground where rot had eaten away at the seats of the swing set while rust had choked the metal chains that suspended it. He closed his eyes, ignoring the wretched noise of death when the wind blew upon the swings to only remember the laughter that once filled the seat.
"Hello," a voice uttered. "You want to play?"
The Spectre opened his eyes to see the apparition smile before him. She was a young girl with pig-tails, no more than seven, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Her color in her cheeks solidified a deep red as if they had never left her. Others appeared on the playground laughing and screaming with immense joy on the playground, not knowing the fate that had consumed the town long ago.
"What is your name, little one?" the Spectre asked.
"My name is Amanda," she replied quickly. "Amanda Johnson. My daddy is the mayor."
"It seems that you have plenty of friends to play with here, Amanda Johnson." The Spectre could see nothing but the innocence in the girl before him, which made what happened long ago a greater travesty. "How come you are not playing with the others?"
The young girl smiled. "My brother is in the nurses’ station. They said he was sick. I think he has a cold. He keeps coughing. I guess the others do not want to get sick, but I am healthy."
"How long has your brother been sick?"
Amanda shrugged. "He only got sick today. I thought it was my daddy that would get sick though."
The Spectre found her diversion in thought intriguing. "Why do you think your daddy would get sick and not your brother?"
"He hasn't been acting the same,” she said sadly. “He has not played with me in a couple of days."
"Does he play with you often?"
"All the time," she said with a smile. It was evident that love had graced the young one’s home.
"Can I ask you another question?"
"Yes, sir," smiled Amanda as she looked directly toward his towering figure.
"Have you noticed anything different in town?"
Amanda thought deeply, her face contorting to various angles as she searched for an answer. "Nothing I can think of, sir. There was a new person that came into town though. She had these tattoos on her hand that looked like a flower."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"The same day my daddy stopped playing with me."
The Spectre’s smile vanished as he looked down the street deeper into town. It was as if the town itself was pleading for vindication. The school bell rang and young Amanda Johnson ran back with her classmates. A piece of her broke off and fluttered away, as did many other pieces until they were blown away, nothing remaining but a brief memory within the Spectre. The children of the school all died from a strand of small pox, a disease long eradicated in the country. He could smell it the moment the apparition spoke to him. The children had not caused the death of the town, but did succumb to its tragedy and the Spectre knew he would have to go deeper into the town to discover the origin of the calling.
He continued into the town, hearing the cries of the dead innocent from years long gone get louder the deeper he ventured. Ghastly phantasms continued to cross his path, revealing the evil that had succumbed all its residents. He managed his way through actions of murder and insanity, all of which he had seen over the centuries, very rarely though is such a confined location. The smell of death lingered heavily in his throat, his senses being bombarded by the stench of sin.
The sun began to set on the town as he stopped in front of one house. Physically it was no different than any of the other run-down dwellings on the street - mold and decay had claimed it long ago, but something had visited this home. It was faint to his senses, but it was there. It was something ancient. It was something familiar, but unnatural to this plane of existence. He just couldn't quite place it.
His body went immaterial, passing through the laws of physical matter which was the door to enter the home. He was greeted by a still skeleton near the foot of steps, the fracture on its skull revealing blunt trauma and probable cause of death.
"Who is she?" a voice screamed from upstairs. "Who is she?!"
He turned to gaze upward looking for events to unravel. The skeletal remains at his feet faded away as history engulfed the present as yesteryear began to reveal itself to the Spirit of Vengeance. The rot and soot beneath vanished under his feet as the woodened floors appeared brightly as ever. The same happened to the walls as the colors on the wallpaper that had adorned its halls popped vibrantly. The banister began to slowly web together spindle by spindle as he made his way up the stairs until the destruction was made whole once more.
"Answer me!"
The Spectre had reached the second level of the home as he witnessed the young woman unleash her anger upon her dead husband. Her voice became loud pitches and shrieks of anger, revealing the darkest corner that he had known in much of humanity. She continued the assault, her hand grasping and ramming the dead body on the bottom corner of the wall as blood and brain matter began to spray onto her and through the Spectre's body as he hovered over both. This was the anger of a woman scorned. Even though her husband’s limp dead body remained motionless the attack continued. The body at the door entrance his mistress. He thought many humans denied the existence of the evil corner that lurked deep inside everyone. He knew all it took was a certain trigger to ignite such a beast. For this household it was the revelation of adultery.
There was a sudden quake in the air which appeared like a ripple effect cascading through space and time. The sudden quake brushed away the actions of the past and forced the material present to manifest around the Spectre again. He found the experience interesting as his curiosity peaked. His attention shifted to the tarnished window down the hall. Even through the caked dirt and stain upon the window, he could see a light in the distance. He could see the fire flutter like an exotic dance attempting to lure his own dark corner. He recognized it as a courtesy. An invitation to reveal themselves to each other. It was also something he had to answer.
Time passed differently for the Spectre. Things from the past and the present all blended together before his eyes until he decided otherwise. Now was one of those times, ignoring the phantasms of the past and focusing only on the church.
He passed through the giant wooden doors, now noticing more candles being lit within the sanctuary. A woman scantily cladded was easily seen upon entering. The tattoos which laced every extremity of her body an outside representation of what she represented now that they were in such proximity of each other. She remained seated on the alter steps with her legs crossed, her arms extended while her head rested back on the top step. She was young in body, but he could sense she was ancient. As old as he was yet this was the first time they had ever truly met.
"You are her?” the Spectre asked. "The Jezebel who would tempt Vengeance itself."
Her head rose, her gaze sternly fixed on him. "How do you see me?" she asked.
It was a simple question yet his post-cognitive vision jumped feverishly on request. Her face revealed nothing now, just a blank emotionless shade. Her clothing did change as different eras she had ravaged cascaded through time upon her slender frame. She arose with a devilish and approached, slowly tracing her finger along his cloak and eventually down the side of his face.
“What did you see?”
The Spectre barely moved. “I saw an abomination wandering aimlessly through time. I saw the dust of Babylon at your feet. Civilizations and nations have fallen when you make your presence known. It is much like a plague.”
“Have you not done the same?” She sat her head upon his chest, her hand caressing his chest. “I do recall it was you that went through Pharaoh of Egypt. I spent weeks enjoying the cries of the city.”
“I am the Spirit of Vengeance. I am bound to the divine law,” he said with disgust as she attempted to equalize the two. “I extinguish the fire of the damned. Your deviant spark ignited the fires of Nod or need I remind you.”
“Do not bring up his name. I escaped from him long ago,” she said with trepidation. “I have a name now.”
“What else shall the Spirit of Murder be called?”
She closed her eyes, sniffing the power before her. “They have come to call me Rose Tattoo.”
With her introduction, Rose grasped a hidden blade from her side and shoved it through the Spectre’s chest with lightning speed. A torrent of spiritual force ravaged the sanctuary sending Rose and everything near them flying. A concrete pillar stopped her travel, indenting a large crater within the wall.
The Spectre huffed loudly as he clutched at the exposed site. Rose could see the effects of the attack affect her victim, smiling with glee as she licked her blood which now dribbled down her lip.
“You are quite powerful,” she said loudly as she appeared grasping two blades now. “I can tell though you are restricted from all of your power. Are you having daddy issues?” With speed that rivaled her opening attack, she flipped the blade in the air until her fingers grasped its blade and sent it darting toward the Spectre.
Aware of the threat before him, the Spectre raised his hand forcing the projectile to slow its trajectory until it was drained of forward momentum. The blade fell to his feet as both combatants focused on each other.
“You are an obscenity to this existence,” barked the Spectre.
Rose smiled again as she flung her other blade with greater force and speed as the previous attack. That blade too was halted, but Rose used that distraction to leap in the air toward the Spectre. Her attack would have been a fatal blow to most, but the Spectre dissolved into the floor as her knee made contact with his cloak.
Rose looked around, looking for the next possible attack as the Spectre’s cloak slowly melted into the cracks of the floor. Many had fallen by her hands throughout time. Many had fallen by just the mundane objects in the sanctuary alone, yet she knew the Spectre was more than any subject she had killed before. The excitement alone made her spine shiver.
“You dare try to strike down Vengeance itself, Rose Tattoo!” The voice was clearly of the Spectre, but it resonated from every direction, as if he was the church itself. A shadow began to expand from behind her as she quickly turned to see no one. Her attention shifted to the main church glass mural above her position. Where once a cross with random patterns of reds and purples formatted the design was but a memory to Rose as only the green cloak of her adversary formed the design upon the mural now. Slowly each other mural in the church contained images of the green cloaked Spectre. She tried to stay focused but with every instinctive blink the images changed until they all pointed at her.
A sudden explosive force filled the room as all the glass murals shattered, sending thousands of shards of glass downward. Rose sought cover from the falling debris as her arms guarded her face. The shards continued to fall as if they were rain drops from a storm. Across the sanctuary a pile of glass shards began to take form of the Spectre. The hooded form’s cowl arose as his eyes locked once more with Rose. His hand rose, her heart skipped. He summoned a giant shard from the ground and with a gesture it hurled itself at immense speed across the room. She turned to defend herself as the shard imbedded itself into her back. He clenched his hand shut commanding the wooden bleachers to crash into each side of Rose. She snarled at the attack only for it to be snapped into a small scream as three more shards impaled her body. She could not defend herself as she noticed now that the glass shards were dancing in the air at the command of the Spectre. Another shard sliced across her leg as he dropped to a knee. Another shard pierced her achilles tendon forcing both knees down to the ground. Each attack were small cuts but they came with no end. Each slice tearing a piece of skin until only muscle showed and continued until nothing but a skeleton remained in a pool of her own blood.
The shards of glass stopped their attack with a command from the Spectre. He walked upon the remains of his adversary, his post-cognitive vision gazing upon the skeletal remains before him. His vision was different this time as the face of the woman he had just battled revealed a life not connected to what he had encountered. The battle may have ended as her body had failed yet the spirit itself continued somewhere else. He would meet this spirit again. He could feel it, but it would not be tonight. Tonight, only the Spectre remained.
EPILOGUE
The day had ended like most days for Charles Neubert. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he finally made it home. His mind was focused on just pure relaxation to recover from his exhausting day. He had envisioned himself jumping into his sofa, kicking his feet on the coffee table and just vegetate on hours of Netflix binge watching. As he entered the house he was greeted with a fresh aroma of burgers and hotdogs originating from the kitchen. He followed the enticing trail to witness his long-haired beauty await him.
“You read my mind, Hun!” He said as his stomach began to rumble from the smell. “I was starving.”
She leaned back against the counter, giggling as she tossed a hand towel at him. “I thought about going out for Italian tonight, but at the last minute I just didn’t feel the urge to get dressed.”
“I know that feeling all too well,” Charles snickered. “You ready to eat?”
“You can eat but I am still making my salad.”
“That sounds like a plan to me,” he replied as he took a seat at the table while preparing a plate. “I don’t really think I could have lasted another hour waiting in line to get served.”
“How about we go to eat tomorrow though?”
Charles merely gestured with a nod as his mouth was full of food. He closed his eyes with extreme satisfaction as he enjoyed every bite. Before he could swallow and take another bite, the sense of sharp metal raced across his neck. His eyes opened wide, as he could feel the warm sensation of his own blood race down his neck and his hands as he attempted to stop the bleeding. He fell to the floor, wondering what had just happened. He turned to see the woman he loved stand over him with the bloodied blade in her grasp.
It was something in her eyes that was different. Something almost inhuman. As he tried to cling to his own life he could tell this was not the woman he loved. She walked over his body as if the pooling blood on the floor was but a nuisance. His vision began to blur and then there was nothing.
She walked into the bathroom, grabbing a pair of scissors and began hacking chunks of hair off at a time. When finished she stared at her own reflection, her hair just gracing her ears in length now. She wiped her bloodied hand over the mirror, stepped back and just smiled.
“Hello Rose.”
EPILOGUE TWO
“My name is James Corrigan…”
“Anything else?” the officer asked.
“That is all I know,” He said with a desperate tone. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes were on the brink of tears. “I swear to you that is all I know. I could never do this.”
Two detectives watched the interrogation through the two-sided glass that separated the rooms. The man they stared at claimed amnesia. He was also the lone surviving man in the middle of human graveyard with blood covered all over him. He carried no identification and every database on the known planet came back with nothing on the man. Either this man committed their crime or the universe completely screwed him and placed him at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“How did you get there?”
He placed his head into his palm, his other hand trembling with fear on the table. “For the eighth time, I do not know. I just know my name. I do not know how I got there. I never do.”
The officer perked at his last sentence. “Never do?” he said aloud. “This type of stuff happens to you regularly?”
Jim Corrigan couldn’t respond as he could feel his throat tighten with the answer. He merely nodded the confirmation. The lights in the building began to flicker as his eyes opened wide, fear causing him to sweat profusely. Both his hands clenched his hair as he feared the inevitability he had witnessed countless of times. He would be flung from one part of the world to another, not knowing how he got there. He would get to a certain moment in a place and then it happened. Everything after a complete blank slate.
The lights flickered more intensely as the interrogation room went completely dark. It was two seconds but Jim Corrigan was gone. The two detectives looked bewildered. The man was in a locked room in hand cuffs and two seconds was all it took to vanish before them. The hairs on their arms began to rise while both of their spines shivered as if both sensed something unnatural. Something did move, something barely able to grasp a description from either of them. They knew something was there. Something definitely was there.
There was a brief delay but a voice responded no louder than a whisper. “Help me.”
“What is happening, mam?” The dispatcher asked. “Where are you?”
Faint, frantic breathing could be heard as the operator waited for a response.
“…Please!”
“Mam, where are you. Are you in danger?”
“He is home now. Please help me.” A dial tone ended the conversation perplexing the dispatcher.
Liberty Hills, Iowa
There are towns across the planet that are all but forgotten, empty shells of their former selves just begging to tell their story. Only a few know where these towns dwell. Even fewer dare to step foot on their boundaries. This town was one of those towns, filled with white picket fences block upon block. Everyone congregated to the local church and hospitability extended to everyone from local to visitor. There was something about the town from the aroma of apple pie in the wind or the kids laughter scattered aloud randomly. It was one of those towns everybody knew each other and few wanted to leave.
One day the sun had set in the town only for it not to rise again. It had become a fading memory to many. To some just a myth. What happened to the town was unknown. The only certain thing was that it was never the same again. No one had graced the town since that day – until the Spectre came.
The Spectre walked into the now dilapidated town, his green cloak dragging upon the streets that hosted many parades and town festivals in its time. Disrepair and ruin lingered throughout as far as he could see. He came up onto a school playground where rot had eaten away at the seats of the swing set while rust had choked the metal chains that suspended it. He closed his eyes, ignoring the wretched noise of death when the wind blew upon the swings to only remember the laughter that once filled the seat.
"Hello," a voice uttered. "You want to play?"
The Spectre opened his eyes to see the apparition smile before him. She was a young girl with pig-tails, no more than seven, with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Her color in her cheeks solidified a deep red as if they had never left her. Others appeared on the playground laughing and screaming with immense joy on the playground, not knowing the fate that had consumed the town long ago.
"What is your name, little one?" the Spectre asked.
"My name is Amanda," she replied quickly. "Amanda Johnson. My daddy is the mayor."
"It seems that you have plenty of friends to play with here, Amanda Johnson." The Spectre could see nothing but the innocence in the girl before him, which made what happened long ago a greater travesty. "How come you are not playing with the others?"
The young girl smiled. "My brother is in the nurses’ station. They said he was sick. I think he has a cold. He keeps coughing. I guess the others do not want to get sick, but I am healthy."
"How long has your brother been sick?"
Amanda shrugged. "He only got sick today. I thought it was my daddy that would get sick though."
The Spectre found her diversion in thought intriguing. "Why do you think your daddy would get sick and not your brother?"
"He hasn't been acting the same,” she said sadly. “He has not played with me in a couple of days."
"Does he play with you often?"
"All the time," she said with a smile. It was evident that love had graced the young one’s home.
"Can I ask you another question?"
"Yes, sir," smiled Amanda as she looked directly toward his towering figure.
"Have you noticed anything different in town?"
Amanda thought deeply, her face contorting to various angles as she searched for an answer. "Nothing I can think of, sir. There was a new person that came into town though. She had these tattoos on her hand that looked like a flower."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"The same day my daddy stopped playing with me."
The Spectre’s smile vanished as he looked down the street deeper into town. It was as if the town itself was pleading for vindication. The school bell rang and young Amanda Johnson ran back with her classmates. A piece of her broke off and fluttered away, as did many other pieces until they were blown away, nothing remaining but a brief memory within the Spectre. The children of the school all died from a strand of small pox, a disease long eradicated in the country. He could smell it the moment the apparition spoke to him. The children had not caused the death of the town, but did succumb to its tragedy and the Spectre knew he would have to go deeper into the town to discover the origin of the calling.
He continued into the town, hearing the cries of the dead innocent from years long gone get louder the deeper he ventured. Ghastly phantasms continued to cross his path, revealing the evil that had succumbed all its residents. He managed his way through actions of murder and insanity, all of which he had seen over the centuries, very rarely though is such a confined location. The smell of death lingered heavily in his throat, his senses being bombarded by the stench of sin.
The sun began to set on the town as he stopped in front of one house. Physically it was no different than any of the other run-down dwellings on the street - mold and decay had claimed it long ago, but something had visited this home. It was faint to his senses, but it was there. It was something ancient. It was something familiar, but unnatural to this plane of existence. He just couldn't quite place it.
His body went immaterial, passing through the laws of physical matter which was the door to enter the home. He was greeted by a still skeleton near the foot of steps, the fracture on its skull revealing blunt trauma and probable cause of death.
"Who is she?" a voice screamed from upstairs. "Who is she?!"
He turned to gaze upward looking for events to unravel. The skeletal remains at his feet faded away as history engulfed the present as yesteryear began to reveal itself to the Spirit of Vengeance. The rot and soot beneath vanished under his feet as the woodened floors appeared brightly as ever. The same happened to the walls as the colors on the wallpaper that had adorned its halls popped vibrantly. The banister began to slowly web together spindle by spindle as he made his way up the stairs until the destruction was made whole once more.
"Answer me!"
The Spectre had reached the second level of the home as he witnessed the young woman unleash her anger upon her dead husband. Her voice became loud pitches and shrieks of anger, revealing the darkest corner that he had known in much of humanity. She continued the assault, her hand grasping and ramming the dead body on the bottom corner of the wall as blood and brain matter began to spray onto her and through the Spectre's body as he hovered over both. This was the anger of a woman scorned. Even though her husband’s limp dead body remained motionless the attack continued. The body at the door entrance his mistress. He thought many humans denied the existence of the evil corner that lurked deep inside everyone. He knew all it took was a certain trigger to ignite such a beast. For this household it was the revelation of adultery.
There was a sudden quake in the air which appeared like a ripple effect cascading through space and time. The sudden quake brushed away the actions of the past and forced the material present to manifest around the Spectre again. He found the experience interesting as his curiosity peaked. His attention shifted to the tarnished window down the hall. Even through the caked dirt and stain upon the window, he could see a light in the distance. He could see the fire flutter like an exotic dance attempting to lure his own dark corner. He recognized it as a courtesy. An invitation to reveal themselves to each other. It was also something he had to answer.
Time passed differently for the Spectre. Things from the past and the present all blended together before his eyes until he decided otherwise. Now was one of those times, ignoring the phantasms of the past and focusing only on the church.
He passed through the giant wooden doors, now noticing more candles being lit within the sanctuary. A woman scantily cladded was easily seen upon entering. The tattoos which laced every extremity of her body an outside representation of what she represented now that they were in such proximity of each other. She remained seated on the alter steps with her legs crossed, her arms extended while her head rested back on the top step. She was young in body, but he could sense she was ancient. As old as he was yet this was the first time they had ever truly met.
"You are her?” the Spectre asked. "The Jezebel who would tempt Vengeance itself."
Her head rose, her gaze sternly fixed on him. "How do you see me?" she asked.
It was a simple question yet his post-cognitive vision jumped feverishly on request. Her face revealed nothing now, just a blank emotionless shade. Her clothing did change as different eras she had ravaged cascaded through time upon her slender frame. She arose with a devilish and approached, slowly tracing her finger along his cloak and eventually down the side of his face.
“What did you see?”
The Spectre barely moved. “I saw an abomination wandering aimlessly through time. I saw the dust of Babylon at your feet. Civilizations and nations have fallen when you make your presence known. It is much like a plague.”
“Have you not done the same?” She sat her head upon his chest, her hand caressing his chest. “I do recall it was you that went through Pharaoh of Egypt. I spent weeks enjoying the cries of the city.”
“I am the Spirit of Vengeance. I am bound to the divine law,” he said with disgust as she attempted to equalize the two. “I extinguish the fire of the damned. Your deviant spark ignited the fires of Nod or need I remind you.”
“Do not bring up his name. I escaped from him long ago,” she said with trepidation. “I have a name now.”
“What else shall the Spirit of Murder be called?”
She closed her eyes, sniffing the power before her. “They have come to call me Rose Tattoo.”
With her introduction, Rose grasped a hidden blade from her side and shoved it through the Spectre’s chest with lightning speed. A torrent of spiritual force ravaged the sanctuary sending Rose and everything near them flying. A concrete pillar stopped her travel, indenting a large crater within the wall.
The Spectre huffed loudly as he clutched at the exposed site. Rose could see the effects of the attack affect her victim, smiling with glee as she licked her blood which now dribbled down her lip.
“You are quite powerful,” she said loudly as she appeared grasping two blades now. “I can tell though you are restricted from all of your power. Are you having daddy issues?” With speed that rivaled her opening attack, she flipped the blade in the air until her fingers grasped its blade and sent it darting toward the Spectre.
Aware of the threat before him, the Spectre raised his hand forcing the projectile to slow its trajectory until it was drained of forward momentum. The blade fell to his feet as both combatants focused on each other.
“You are an obscenity to this existence,” barked the Spectre.
Rose smiled again as she flung her other blade with greater force and speed as the previous attack. That blade too was halted, but Rose used that distraction to leap in the air toward the Spectre. Her attack would have been a fatal blow to most, but the Spectre dissolved into the floor as her knee made contact with his cloak.
Rose looked around, looking for the next possible attack as the Spectre’s cloak slowly melted into the cracks of the floor. Many had fallen by her hands throughout time. Many had fallen by just the mundane objects in the sanctuary alone, yet she knew the Spectre was more than any subject she had killed before. The excitement alone made her spine shiver.
“You dare try to strike down Vengeance itself, Rose Tattoo!” The voice was clearly of the Spectre, but it resonated from every direction, as if he was the church itself. A shadow began to expand from behind her as she quickly turned to see no one. Her attention shifted to the main church glass mural above her position. Where once a cross with random patterns of reds and purples formatted the design was but a memory to Rose as only the green cloak of her adversary formed the design upon the mural now. Slowly each other mural in the church contained images of the green cloaked Spectre. She tried to stay focused but with every instinctive blink the images changed until they all pointed at her.
A sudden explosive force filled the room as all the glass murals shattered, sending thousands of shards of glass downward. Rose sought cover from the falling debris as her arms guarded her face. The shards continued to fall as if they were rain drops from a storm. Across the sanctuary a pile of glass shards began to take form of the Spectre. The hooded form’s cowl arose as his eyes locked once more with Rose. His hand rose, her heart skipped. He summoned a giant shard from the ground and with a gesture it hurled itself at immense speed across the room. She turned to defend herself as the shard imbedded itself into her back. He clenched his hand shut commanding the wooden bleachers to crash into each side of Rose. She snarled at the attack only for it to be snapped into a small scream as three more shards impaled her body. She could not defend herself as she noticed now that the glass shards were dancing in the air at the command of the Spectre. Another shard sliced across her leg as he dropped to a knee. Another shard pierced her achilles tendon forcing both knees down to the ground. Each attack were small cuts but they came with no end. Each slice tearing a piece of skin until only muscle showed and continued until nothing but a skeleton remained in a pool of her own blood.
The shards of glass stopped their attack with a command from the Spectre. He walked upon the remains of his adversary, his post-cognitive vision gazing upon the skeletal remains before him. His vision was different this time as the face of the woman he had just battled revealed a life not connected to what he had encountered. The battle may have ended as her body had failed yet the spirit itself continued somewhere else. He would meet this spirit again. He could feel it, but it would not be tonight. Tonight, only the Spectre remained.
EPILOGUE
The day had ended like most days for Charles Neubert. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he finally made it home. His mind was focused on just pure relaxation to recover from his exhausting day. He had envisioned himself jumping into his sofa, kicking his feet on the coffee table and just vegetate on hours of Netflix binge watching. As he entered the house he was greeted with a fresh aroma of burgers and hotdogs originating from the kitchen. He followed the enticing trail to witness his long-haired beauty await him.
“You read my mind, Hun!” He said as his stomach began to rumble from the smell. “I was starving.”
She leaned back against the counter, giggling as she tossed a hand towel at him. “I thought about going out for Italian tonight, but at the last minute I just didn’t feel the urge to get dressed.”
“I know that feeling all too well,” Charles snickered. “You ready to eat?”
“You can eat but I am still making my salad.”
“That sounds like a plan to me,” he replied as he took a seat at the table while preparing a plate. “I don’t really think I could have lasted another hour waiting in line to get served.”
“How about we go to eat tomorrow though?”
Charles merely gestured with a nod as his mouth was full of food. He closed his eyes with extreme satisfaction as he enjoyed every bite. Before he could swallow and take another bite, the sense of sharp metal raced across his neck. His eyes opened wide, as he could feel the warm sensation of his own blood race down his neck and his hands as he attempted to stop the bleeding. He fell to the floor, wondering what had just happened. He turned to see the woman he loved stand over him with the bloodied blade in her grasp.
It was something in her eyes that was different. Something almost inhuman. As he tried to cling to his own life he could tell this was not the woman he loved. She walked over his body as if the pooling blood on the floor was but a nuisance. His vision began to blur and then there was nothing.
She walked into the bathroom, grabbing a pair of scissors and began hacking chunks of hair off at a time. When finished she stared at her own reflection, her hair just gracing her ears in length now. She wiped her bloodied hand over the mirror, stepped back and just smiled.
“Hello Rose.”
EPILOGUE TWO
“My name is James Corrigan…”
“Anything else?” the officer asked.
“That is all I know,” He said with a desperate tone. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes were on the brink of tears. “I swear to you that is all I know. I could never do this.”
Two detectives watched the interrogation through the two-sided glass that separated the rooms. The man they stared at claimed amnesia. He was also the lone surviving man in the middle of human graveyard with blood covered all over him. He carried no identification and every database on the known planet came back with nothing on the man. Either this man committed their crime or the universe completely screwed him and placed him at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“How did you get there?”
He placed his head into his palm, his other hand trembling with fear on the table. “For the eighth time, I do not know. I just know my name. I do not know how I got there. I never do.”
The officer perked at his last sentence. “Never do?” he said aloud. “This type of stuff happens to you regularly?”
Jim Corrigan couldn’t respond as he could feel his throat tighten with the answer. He merely nodded the confirmation. The lights in the building began to flicker as his eyes opened wide, fear causing him to sweat profusely. Both his hands clenched his hair as he feared the inevitability he had witnessed countless of times. He would be flung from one part of the world to another, not knowing how he got there. He would get to a certain moment in a place and then it happened. Everything after a complete blank slate.
The lights flickered more intensely as the interrogation room went completely dark. It was two seconds but Jim Corrigan was gone. The two detectives looked bewildered. The man was in a locked room in hand cuffs and two seconds was all it took to vanish before them. The hairs on their arms began to rise while both of their spines shivered as if both sensed something unnatural. Something did move, something barely able to grasp a description from either of them. They knew something was there. Something definitely was there.
By Tobias Christopher
Today
"I don't think we should be doing this," Superboy said as he opened the door to the Fortress of Solitude . "We need to get ready for trick or treating with our brothers."
"Hey, fair's fair," Robin said. "You two have been to the Batcave plenty of times. It's only right that I get to check out your dad's secret base. Besides, after all the damage Jase has caused the Batcave--"
"No one ever told me that water and computers don't mix," Impulse said as his eyes widened upon looking at the Fortress. "Oooohhh--"
Superboy caught him before he could run off. "Do not touch anything. My dad'll be mad if he finds out I'm here without his permission."
"Relax, he's off helping The Flash do something in an alternate universe," Robin told him as he looked around, taking notes. There was a lot of tech here that he could potentially use if he could get proper access to it. "We'll be in and out before you know it."
"What's with all the crystals?" Impulse asked as he zipped around.
"That's Krypton's history," Superboy told him. "My dad's been showing some of it to me, trying to teach me about my heritage."
"He doesn't believe in books? Seems like the equivalent of parking your kid in front of the t.v. to learn about why a small Mexican girl is allowed to roam hundreds of miles from home with no adult supervision with just a mutated monkey for company," Robin asked sarcastically as he felt around the ice with his gloved hand. "What's in the vault?"
"What vault?"
"The vault that's here, dummy." Robin asked as he brushed the snow away and opened a door.
"We shouldn't go down there." Superboy told him.
"Then stay here," Robin said as Impulse zipped right past him. "There you go, Jon. Better get him before he breaks something."
Superboy just sighed as he flew into the vault. He followed a staircase down to find Impulse rushing around a large menagerie of animals.
"What the hell is this?" Robin asked. "Superman's running a zoo?"
"Dad mentioned that he keeps rare animals that are on the brink of extinction, he rescued them from a space collector," Superboy told them. " Animals that were hunted down and killed until there was only one left. These are the last of their kind, like my dad was."
"Captivity is still captivity," Robin told him as he read one of the cards on the front of one atrium. "Kryptonian flesh-eater?"
"Yeah, it was a species back on Krypton that lives off the flesh of Kryptonians," Superboy told him.
"I figured, Einstein."
"It's got super strong teeth and can even bite through the skin of someone who's powered by a yellow sun."
"So why is it still alive?"
"Because it's a living creature," Superboy told him. "Dad thought the species went extinct centuries ago, but I guess that collector guy got the last one. Dad says we have to respect all life. That's why he brought all these creatures here. A lot of them would be dangerous if let out into the world."
"Oops." Impulse said as the other two boys quickly turned their heads toward him.
"What did you do, Jase?"
"The button was so shiny, you know I have a button pushing addiction--"
The atrium to the Kryptonian Flesh Eater quickly opened, allowing the large bulldog like creature to charge out toward Superboy. Robin quickly pushed Superboy out of the way as he pulled out his bo staff to strike the creature, but the Kryptonian Flesh Easter bit through it.
"Jase, get Jon out of here, I don't think we can hold it off by simple measures!"
"Why are we measuring it in the first place?"
Robin just stared over at Impulse. "Really?"
"I'm not leaving you here!" Superboy shouted, but Impulse had already grabbed him by the cape and pulled him upstairs.
"Alright, you're going back into your cage, or I'm going to--" Robin started to say before he got trampled as the creature followed Superboy's scent upstairs.
"Maybe one of the buttons on the control panel will drop a cage on him like in the movies," Jase said as he pushed every button on the console within a matter of seconds until it started shorting out, just a portal started opening.
"Maybe I can lure it back downstairs," Superboy suggested "Trick it back into its cage."
"How?" Impulse asked. "Do you have Superboy flavored doggy treats?"
"Maybe I do," Superboy said. "I can use a piece of clothing with my scent on it to--"
The creature was almost on top of him when Impulse pushed him out of the way. He yanked Superboy's top and cape off of his body and started waving it around to get the creature's attention.
"You want it, boy?" Impulse asked as the creature rushed toward him. He tossed the shirt and cape through a portal that had appeared as the creature rushed through, just as Robin came back upstairs.
"Where does that portal go, Jase?"
Impulse just shrugged his shoulders as Robin grabbed him by the collar. "What if the portal leads somewhere where there are people? Like a baseball game or a school?"
"Then we have to follow it and bring it back!" Superboy shouted as he flew through the portal, not knowing what to expect. Robin and Impulse quickly followed, landing in a large open field by a lake.
"I know this place," Superboy said as he picked up his shirt and cape from the ground, pulling it back on. "Welling Lake, it's in Smallville. I go swimming here whenever I stay with my Grandma on her farm."
"Smallville?" Robin asked. "The place Superman grew up. This place is probably heavy with his scent. We have to--"
"Guys, look at this fake newspaper," Impulse told them. "I got bored and ran to town to get the comic section since I didn't get to read it this morning, and every paper has this old date on it."
Robin grabbed it, looking at the date. "That portal didn't take us to current day Smallville if this date is right. We've gone back in time. If my estimate is right, your dad would only be a teenager here."
"Then that creature's going to home in on him, and he's as not experienced as my dad is now!" Superboy realized.
"That's not saying much," Robin coughed.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Robin said.
"We have to save my Dad!" Superboy said as he rose into the air.
"Hold it," Robin said, pulling Superboy back down to Earth by his cape. "We're out of place here, people are going question why three costumed kids are fighting a monster."
"No they won't," Impulse said. "It's Halloween!"
"Not until tonight," Robin told them "We'll need to dress normal. Jase, round us up some clothes."
"On it, boss."
"Don't call me boss."
"Right, boss." Jase said as he zipped away before returning with a pile of clothes and shoes. "Found these in a lost and found at the local high school."
Superboy and Impulse started stripping off their costumes as Robin turned his head. "Really, guys? Right here?"
"We're not ashamed of our bodies," Jase said as he stood there in the nude before he saw Jon turning his head away. "What? I don't do underwear."
"Just-- just get dressed, I'll change behind that tree." Robin said. A few minutes later he returned in a black t-shirt and jeans. "You guys ready?"
"We've been ready. My dad's living at the Kent Farm, let's go!" Jon shouted as Damian grabbed his arm to pull him back down.
"Hold on, cowboy, you can't let your dad see you, it could mess with the future," Damian told him. "You and Jase go to the farm to keep watch for the monster, but don't do anything else. We can't risk messing up something up. I'll be there soon. I want to get a few supplies that we might need to get this creature back to the portal."
The Kent Farm
"You look so handsome, Clark," Martha said as she finished the details on Clark's puppy costume.
"I feel stupid," Clark said. "I'm going to be the only guy at the Halloween party in a puppy costume."
"You're the one who agreed to dress like this for Lana," Pete told him as he sat in his wheelchair near the couch with Whitney. While Whitney was dressed as Freddy Krueger, Pete had on a Chucky costume with a plastic knife in his lap.
"Yeah, bro, get used to doing what she asks now that you two are dating." Whitney said.
"Now, boys," Martha said as she finished the ears. "You two will find someone that will make you feel special like Lana does for Clark."
"Yeah, maybe someday," Pete said with a sad sigh. "So, are we meeting your mystery guy tonight, Whitney?"
"Yeah, he'll be there," Whitney told him. "He's even wearing the costume Clark was going to have before Lana talked him into dressing up as Cujo."
"Come on, guys, let's get going," Clark told them, giving Whitney a dirty look. "Let's take the backroads so no one sees me like this."
"Yes, let's take the unpaved backroad with the kid in the wheelchair." Pete said sarcastically.
Jon and Jase sat in a tree as Clark, Whitney and Pete headed out the door.
"That's your dad?" Jase asked as he watched them through a pair of binoculars. "I kind of expected something... tougher. Unless the dude dressed as Freddy is your Dad. Heck, even the guy in the wheelchair, Jon. Is that your Dad?"
"No, he's the puppy," Jon sighed. "And my Dad's tough. You'll see."
"Well, at least the costume makes sense, always knew he'd be dressed as something neutered," Damian said as he joined them in the tree. "Grabbed some steel cables and a few other things. Jon, put these on."
"Why?" Jon asked as he took Damian's domino mask, cape and hood.
"If this goes south and your Dad sees us, we need to hide your face. My mask has a special light lead lining so he can't sneak a peek at you," Damian told him. "Something MY Dad came up with to protect our identities."
"Wow, your Dad sounds cool," Jase told him. "Too bad he banned me from his house."
"That wasn't my house, that was the Batc-- Yeah, yeah, that was my house," Damian told him. "Let's follow them. The monster must be around, picking up his trail."
The trio headed off, and after a few minutes, Jon stopped.
"I hear it coming. It's a few miles away, but it's coming. And if I can hear it, then so can my Dad."
"My mom is right, Pete," Clark said as he pushed Pete's wheelchair along. "You're going to find someone. Maybe even at the party."
"I doubt it," Pete told him. "Who's going to want half a man?"
"Dammit, Pete, if a jerk like me can score a date, then the nicest guy in Smallville should have every girl hanging off of him trying to get a piece." Whitney told him.
"Hey, I thought I was the nicest guy in Smallville." Clark told him.
"You were, but after seeing you in the get-up I had to downgrade you to most whipped guy in Smallville." Whitney said as Clark suddenly stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Whitney, you and Pete keep going, I'll catch up," Clark told them. "I suddenly have to use the bathroom."
"Go on, we'll wait." Whitney told him as Pete looked at Clark and realized what he was trying to say with his facial expression.
"Whitney, look at the costume, there's no zipper. He has to take the whole thing off," Pete told him. "He's going to be a while."
"Alright, but this better not be you copping out on the dance," Whitney told him as he started pushing Pete's chair. "Better see you there soon."
Not too far back, the time lost trio were following Clark's trail.
"How far away?" Damian asked.
"Not far, it'll be here any minute," Jon told him. "I don't think my Dad can fight this monster this young."
"He's going to have to," Damian said as Clark suddenly appeared behind them. "Crap, I forgot how fast he was."
"Why are you following me?" Clark asked. "I saw you guys following us from the farm."
Clark had actually heard them following, as well as their odd dialogue about something coming to kill Clark.
"Da-- Clark," Jon said, trying to mask his voice even though he had the mask and cape on. "You gotta listen to me, there's something bad coming and I don't know if--"
The sound of something big coming from the forest next to them became louder and louder. The monster shot out of the bushes at lightning fast speed, headed towards Clark when Jase pushed him out of the way.
Damian pulled out the steel cable, using it as a bolo as he tossed it at the monster. The cables connected, sending the monster to the ground. After a few seconds of struggling it broke free and started charging again.
"It must get its strength from the sun like Superman does!" Damian shouted to Jon as Jase ran circles around the monster. "We'll have to resort to plan B."
"Which is?" Jon asked.
"Punch the hell out of it!"
Jon and Clark punched the monster at the same time, sending it back and yelping. The monster shook it off and swiped at Jon, clawing his chest.
"Hey, he's just a kid!" Clark shouted as he grabbed the monster by the hind legs, picking it up and flying into the air to get it away from them. The monster and rammed Clark, causing him to drop the beast. Clark fell back onto the unpaved road as Damian and Jase walked Jon over to him.
"You okay?" Jase asked.
"I've had worse falls," Clark told them as he looked at Jon, whose face was still hidden. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I just need to rest," Jon said. The sunlight would heal his wounds within a few hours, but until then it would sting like hell. "Where'd that thing go?"
"Well, it's obviously not coming back to us, so it'll head to the next place where the scent is strongest," Damian told them. "What's the closet place around here?"
"The high school," Clark told them. "My friends! I can't let that thing hurt them!"
"We could barely put a dent in that thing," Jon said. "How are we supposed to stop it? It's hopeless."
"Hey, now," Clark said as he put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Nothing is ever hopeless. When one door closes, look for another way in. Why is that thing attacking me?"
"It-- it has a scent for superpowered beings," Damian told him. "It got loose from a high-tech facility and tracked down the first person it could find."
"And you guys are just like me?" Clark asked.
"Some of us are better," Damian said as Jon shot an icy stare at him. "We need to lure that thing back to Welling Lake. We just need something with your scents that's so strong that it can't resist following us back."
"I have an idea," Jase said as he zipped away, returning with a pile of Clark's clothes from the laundry hamper. "Anyone got a needle and thread?"
Whitney and Pete arrived at the high school gymnasium where the Halloween dance would soon start. As Whitney pushed Pete up to the door, they were met by another boy in a Jason Voorhees mask.
"Pete, this is my... friend," Whitney said while blushing. "I told you he was real."
"You must be Pete," the boy said while still wearing the mask. "Nice to meet you."
"Of course he'd be wearing a mask," Pete told him as the two shook hands. "We should tell Lana that Clark's going to be a few minutes late."
"Is he okay?" Lana asked as she walked up to them dressed as Annie WIlkes from Misery. She had an axe in hand as Pete looked up at her.
"Aren't you supposed to be dressed as a cat?"
"The costume I reserved was given to someone else, so I had to improvise," Lana told them. "Since you guys were coming as horror villains... I tried leaving a message for Clark, but no one answered at the farm."
"The Kents might have gone out for the night," Pete said. "You guys go in, I'll wait for Clark and tell him he can change costumes before he embarrasses himself."
The monster was rushing toward the high school, where Clark's scent was all over the place. As it got ready to make the leap onto the path leading to the school, a whistling came from behind the creature. It turned around to see Damian, Jase and Jon wearing blankets sewn together from Clark's dirty farm work clothes.
"This better work." Jon said while still wearing the cape and mask.
"For once Jase actually had a decent idea," Damian told him. "When it charges, scatter! Lead it back to Welling Lake so we can get it back to where it belongs!"
"When we get it away, make sure your friends are okay," Jon said while looking up at Clark. "This is probably goodbye."
"I feel like I know you from somewhere," Clark told him. "Those powers you have, do you think that you might be--"
"You'll get all your answers someday," Jon promised as he hugged his future father. "Take care, okay?"
The monster started charging the three future teen heroes scattered as if playing a game of keep away. As they led the monster away, Clark slipped away, watching them go off into the distance. Soon he spotted Pete at the doorway to the gym.
"Everything okay?" Pete asked.
"Yeah, I have a feeling everything's going to be alright for me," Clark smiled. "I think i might have just met my future kid. Gonna have to remember to ground him for letting that thing out. But in the meantime, I want to meet up with Lana."
"Not so fast, cowboy," Pete said as he held out a hand to stop Clark. "FIrst there's something you need to know."
"We're almost there!" Damian shouted as Jon flew him through the air by the arms. "Just a little further!"
The monster jumped into the air to try to knock Jon out of the sky just as Jase zipped ahead of them to distract the creature.
"Hey, double ugly, keep your eyes on the prize!" Jase shouted as he tried to keep the monster focused. They finally led it to the lake where the portal was still open.
"Get it through!" Damian shouted. "We can't risk letting it run off again!"
Jon let Damian drop to the ground before flying forward and punching the monster from behind, sending it flying through the portal. Jon flew after, followed by Damian and Jase just as the portal closed.
Back at the dance, Lana was waiting just as Clark showed up dressed as Jack Torrance from The Shining, carrying his own axe.
"I got the message at the last message," Clark told her. "So I figured our costumes should match. Stephen King and his Stephen Queen."
"Horrible pun, bro." Whitney said as he slow danced with his date.
"You know this isn't a slow dance, right?" Clark asked him as he held out his hand for Lana. "But he might have the right idea."
As Lana took his hand for a dance, Pete just watched them and sighed to himself, sitting alone on the sidelines.
At the Fortress of Solitude, Jon, Damian and Jase fell face first onto the ground, looking up just in time to see the Kryptonian Flesh-Eater standing over them, drooling onto Jon's face. As the creature opened its mouth to reveal several rows of sharp teeth, the monster found itself dragged back downstairs at superspeed.
Within seconds, Superman returned, tossing the backpack with their costumes to the floor.
"Get your costumes back on," Superman told them. "We're going to have a little discussion."
The Following Weekend
"I can't believe I had to clean the entire fortress." Superboy said as he scrubbed the ceiling while floating under it.
"And Robin has to clean the Batcave and Impulse has to clean the Grand Canyon," Superman said. "Just be glad that I didn't tell your mother what happened. I'm just glad you're safe."
"Dad, can I ask you something?" Superboy asked as he floated back down to start sweeping.
"Sure, son."
"Why did you agree to wear a puppy costume?"
Impulse watched over the Grand Canyon, which was now so clean you could eat off it.
THE END
"I don't think we should be doing this," Superboy said as he opened the door to the Fortress of Solitude . "We need to get ready for trick or treating with our brothers."
"Hey, fair's fair," Robin said. "You two have been to the Batcave plenty of times. It's only right that I get to check out your dad's secret base. Besides, after all the damage Jase has caused the Batcave--"
"No one ever told me that water and computers don't mix," Impulse said as his eyes widened upon looking at the Fortress. "Oooohhh--"
Superboy caught him before he could run off. "Do not touch anything. My dad'll be mad if he finds out I'm here without his permission."
"Relax, he's off helping The Flash do something in an alternate universe," Robin told him as he looked around, taking notes. There was a lot of tech here that he could potentially use if he could get proper access to it. "We'll be in and out before you know it."
"What's with all the crystals?" Impulse asked as he zipped around.
"That's Krypton's history," Superboy told him. "My dad's been showing some of it to me, trying to teach me about my heritage."
"He doesn't believe in books? Seems like the equivalent of parking your kid in front of the t.v. to learn about why a small Mexican girl is allowed to roam hundreds of miles from home with no adult supervision with just a mutated monkey for company," Robin asked sarcastically as he felt around the ice with his gloved hand. "What's in the vault?"
"What vault?"
"The vault that's here, dummy." Robin asked as he brushed the snow away and opened a door.
"We shouldn't go down there." Superboy told him.
"Then stay here," Robin said as Impulse zipped right past him. "There you go, Jon. Better get him before he breaks something."
Superboy just sighed as he flew into the vault. He followed a staircase down to find Impulse rushing around a large menagerie of animals.
"What the hell is this?" Robin asked. "Superman's running a zoo?"
"Dad mentioned that he keeps rare animals that are on the brink of extinction, he rescued them from a space collector," Superboy told them. " Animals that were hunted down and killed until there was only one left. These are the last of their kind, like my dad was."
"Captivity is still captivity," Robin told him as he read one of the cards on the front of one atrium. "Kryptonian flesh-eater?"
"Yeah, it was a species back on Krypton that lives off the flesh of Kryptonians," Superboy told him.
"I figured, Einstein."
"It's got super strong teeth and can even bite through the skin of someone who's powered by a yellow sun."
"So why is it still alive?"
"Because it's a living creature," Superboy told him. "Dad thought the species went extinct centuries ago, but I guess that collector guy got the last one. Dad says we have to respect all life. That's why he brought all these creatures here. A lot of them would be dangerous if let out into the world."
"Oops." Impulse said as the other two boys quickly turned their heads toward him.
"What did you do, Jase?"
"The button was so shiny, you know I have a button pushing addiction--"
The atrium to the Kryptonian Flesh Eater quickly opened, allowing the large bulldog like creature to charge out toward Superboy. Robin quickly pushed Superboy out of the way as he pulled out his bo staff to strike the creature, but the Kryptonian Flesh Easter bit through it.
"Jase, get Jon out of here, I don't think we can hold it off by simple measures!"
"Why are we measuring it in the first place?"
Robin just stared over at Impulse. "Really?"
"I'm not leaving you here!" Superboy shouted, but Impulse had already grabbed him by the cape and pulled him upstairs.
"Alright, you're going back into your cage, or I'm going to--" Robin started to say before he got trampled as the creature followed Superboy's scent upstairs.
"Maybe one of the buttons on the control panel will drop a cage on him like in the movies," Jase said as he pushed every button on the console within a matter of seconds until it started shorting out, just a portal started opening.
"Maybe I can lure it back downstairs," Superboy suggested "Trick it back into its cage."
"How?" Impulse asked. "Do you have Superboy flavored doggy treats?"
"Maybe I do," Superboy said. "I can use a piece of clothing with my scent on it to--"
The creature was almost on top of him when Impulse pushed him out of the way. He yanked Superboy's top and cape off of his body and started waving it around to get the creature's attention.
"You want it, boy?" Impulse asked as the creature rushed toward him. He tossed the shirt and cape through a portal that had appeared as the creature rushed through, just as Robin came back upstairs.
"Where does that portal go, Jase?"
Impulse just shrugged his shoulders as Robin grabbed him by the collar. "What if the portal leads somewhere where there are people? Like a baseball game or a school?"
"Then we have to follow it and bring it back!" Superboy shouted as he flew through the portal, not knowing what to expect. Robin and Impulse quickly followed, landing in a large open field by a lake.
"I know this place," Superboy said as he picked up his shirt and cape from the ground, pulling it back on. "Welling Lake, it's in Smallville. I go swimming here whenever I stay with my Grandma on her farm."
"Smallville?" Robin asked. "The place Superman grew up. This place is probably heavy with his scent. We have to--"
"Guys, look at this fake newspaper," Impulse told them. "I got bored and ran to town to get the comic section since I didn't get to read it this morning, and every paper has this old date on it."
Robin grabbed it, looking at the date. "That portal didn't take us to current day Smallville if this date is right. We've gone back in time. If my estimate is right, your dad would only be a teenager here."
"Then that creature's going to home in on him, and he's as not experienced as my dad is now!" Superboy realized.
"That's not saying much," Robin coughed.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Robin said.
"We have to save my Dad!" Superboy said as he rose into the air.
"Hold it," Robin said, pulling Superboy back down to Earth by his cape. "We're out of place here, people are going question why three costumed kids are fighting a monster."
"No they won't," Impulse said. "It's Halloween!"
"Not until tonight," Robin told them "We'll need to dress normal. Jase, round us up some clothes."
"On it, boss."
"Don't call me boss."
"Right, boss." Jase said as he zipped away before returning with a pile of clothes and shoes. "Found these in a lost and found at the local high school."
Superboy and Impulse started stripping off their costumes as Robin turned his head. "Really, guys? Right here?"
"We're not ashamed of our bodies," Jase said as he stood there in the nude before he saw Jon turning his head away. "What? I don't do underwear."
"Just-- just get dressed, I'll change behind that tree." Robin said. A few minutes later he returned in a black t-shirt and jeans. "You guys ready?"
"We've been ready. My dad's living at the Kent Farm, let's go!" Jon shouted as Damian grabbed his arm to pull him back down.
"Hold on, cowboy, you can't let your dad see you, it could mess with the future," Damian told him. "You and Jase go to the farm to keep watch for the monster, but don't do anything else. We can't risk messing up something up. I'll be there soon. I want to get a few supplies that we might need to get this creature back to the portal."
The Kent Farm
"You look so handsome, Clark," Martha said as she finished the details on Clark's puppy costume.
"I feel stupid," Clark said. "I'm going to be the only guy at the Halloween party in a puppy costume."
"You're the one who agreed to dress like this for Lana," Pete told him as he sat in his wheelchair near the couch with Whitney. While Whitney was dressed as Freddy Krueger, Pete had on a Chucky costume with a plastic knife in his lap.
"Yeah, bro, get used to doing what she asks now that you two are dating." Whitney said.
"Now, boys," Martha said as she finished the ears. "You two will find someone that will make you feel special like Lana does for Clark."
"Yeah, maybe someday," Pete said with a sad sigh. "So, are we meeting your mystery guy tonight, Whitney?"
"Yeah, he'll be there," Whitney told him. "He's even wearing the costume Clark was going to have before Lana talked him into dressing up as Cujo."
"Come on, guys, let's get going," Clark told them, giving Whitney a dirty look. "Let's take the backroads so no one sees me like this."
"Yes, let's take the unpaved backroad with the kid in the wheelchair." Pete said sarcastically.
Jon and Jase sat in a tree as Clark, Whitney and Pete headed out the door.
"That's your dad?" Jase asked as he watched them through a pair of binoculars. "I kind of expected something... tougher. Unless the dude dressed as Freddy is your Dad. Heck, even the guy in the wheelchair, Jon. Is that your Dad?"
"No, he's the puppy," Jon sighed. "And my Dad's tough. You'll see."
"Well, at least the costume makes sense, always knew he'd be dressed as something neutered," Damian said as he joined them in the tree. "Grabbed some steel cables and a few other things. Jon, put these on."
"Why?" Jon asked as he took Damian's domino mask, cape and hood.
"If this goes south and your Dad sees us, we need to hide your face. My mask has a special light lead lining so he can't sneak a peek at you," Damian told him. "Something MY Dad came up with to protect our identities."
"Wow, your Dad sounds cool," Jase told him. "Too bad he banned me from his house."
"That wasn't my house, that was the Batc-- Yeah, yeah, that was my house," Damian told him. "Let's follow them. The monster must be around, picking up his trail."
The trio headed off, and after a few minutes, Jon stopped.
"I hear it coming. It's a few miles away, but it's coming. And if I can hear it, then so can my Dad."
"My mom is right, Pete," Clark said as he pushed Pete's wheelchair along. "You're going to find someone. Maybe even at the party."
"I doubt it," Pete told him. "Who's going to want half a man?"
"Dammit, Pete, if a jerk like me can score a date, then the nicest guy in Smallville should have every girl hanging off of him trying to get a piece." Whitney told him.
"Hey, I thought I was the nicest guy in Smallville." Clark told him.
"You were, but after seeing you in the get-up I had to downgrade you to most whipped guy in Smallville." Whitney said as Clark suddenly stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Whitney, you and Pete keep going, I'll catch up," Clark told them. "I suddenly have to use the bathroom."
"Go on, we'll wait." Whitney told him as Pete looked at Clark and realized what he was trying to say with his facial expression.
"Whitney, look at the costume, there's no zipper. He has to take the whole thing off," Pete told him. "He's going to be a while."
"Alright, but this better not be you copping out on the dance," Whitney told him as he started pushing Pete's chair. "Better see you there soon."
Not too far back, the time lost trio were following Clark's trail.
"How far away?" Damian asked.
"Not far, it'll be here any minute," Jon told him. "I don't think my Dad can fight this monster this young."
"He's going to have to," Damian said as Clark suddenly appeared behind them. "Crap, I forgot how fast he was."
"Why are you following me?" Clark asked. "I saw you guys following us from the farm."
Clark had actually heard them following, as well as their odd dialogue about something coming to kill Clark.
"Da-- Clark," Jon said, trying to mask his voice even though he had the mask and cape on. "You gotta listen to me, there's something bad coming and I don't know if--"
The sound of something big coming from the forest next to them became louder and louder. The monster shot out of the bushes at lightning fast speed, headed towards Clark when Jase pushed him out of the way.
Damian pulled out the steel cable, using it as a bolo as he tossed it at the monster. The cables connected, sending the monster to the ground. After a few seconds of struggling it broke free and started charging again.
"It must get its strength from the sun like Superman does!" Damian shouted to Jon as Jase ran circles around the monster. "We'll have to resort to plan B."
"Which is?" Jon asked.
"Punch the hell out of it!"
Jon and Clark punched the monster at the same time, sending it back and yelping. The monster shook it off and swiped at Jon, clawing his chest.
"Hey, he's just a kid!" Clark shouted as he grabbed the monster by the hind legs, picking it up and flying into the air to get it away from them. The monster and rammed Clark, causing him to drop the beast. Clark fell back onto the unpaved road as Damian and Jase walked Jon over to him.
"You okay?" Jase asked.
"I've had worse falls," Clark told them as he looked at Jon, whose face was still hidden. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Yeah, I just need to rest," Jon said. The sunlight would heal his wounds within a few hours, but until then it would sting like hell. "Where'd that thing go?"
"Well, it's obviously not coming back to us, so it'll head to the next place where the scent is strongest," Damian told them. "What's the closet place around here?"
"The high school," Clark told them. "My friends! I can't let that thing hurt them!"
"We could barely put a dent in that thing," Jon said. "How are we supposed to stop it? It's hopeless."
"Hey, now," Clark said as he put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Nothing is ever hopeless. When one door closes, look for another way in. Why is that thing attacking me?"
"It-- it has a scent for superpowered beings," Damian told him. "It got loose from a high-tech facility and tracked down the first person it could find."
"And you guys are just like me?" Clark asked.
"Some of us are better," Damian said as Jon shot an icy stare at him. "We need to lure that thing back to Welling Lake. We just need something with your scents that's so strong that it can't resist following us back."
"I have an idea," Jase said as he zipped away, returning with a pile of Clark's clothes from the laundry hamper. "Anyone got a needle and thread?"
Whitney and Pete arrived at the high school gymnasium where the Halloween dance would soon start. As Whitney pushed Pete up to the door, they were met by another boy in a Jason Voorhees mask.
"Pete, this is my... friend," Whitney said while blushing. "I told you he was real."
"You must be Pete," the boy said while still wearing the mask. "Nice to meet you."
"Of course he'd be wearing a mask," Pete told him as the two shook hands. "We should tell Lana that Clark's going to be a few minutes late."
"Is he okay?" Lana asked as she walked up to them dressed as Annie WIlkes from Misery. She had an axe in hand as Pete looked up at her.
"Aren't you supposed to be dressed as a cat?"
"The costume I reserved was given to someone else, so I had to improvise," Lana told them. "Since you guys were coming as horror villains... I tried leaving a message for Clark, but no one answered at the farm."
"The Kents might have gone out for the night," Pete said. "You guys go in, I'll wait for Clark and tell him he can change costumes before he embarrasses himself."
The monster was rushing toward the high school, where Clark's scent was all over the place. As it got ready to make the leap onto the path leading to the school, a whistling came from behind the creature. It turned around to see Damian, Jase and Jon wearing blankets sewn together from Clark's dirty farm work clothes.
"This better work." Jon said while still wearing the cape and mask.
"For once Jase actually had a decent idea," Damian told him. "When it charges, scatter! Lead it back to Welling Lake so we can get it back to where it belongs!"
"When we get it away, make sure your friends are okay," Jon said while looking up at Clark. "This is probably goodbye."
"I feel like I know you from somewhere," Clark told him. "Those powers you have, do you think that you might be--"
"You'll get all your answers someday," Jon promised as he hugged his future father. "Take care, okay?"
The monster started charging the three future teen heroes scattered as if playing a game of keep away. As they led the monster away, Clark slipped away, watching them go off into the distance. Soon he spotted Pete at the doorway to the gym.
"Everything okay?" Pete asked.
"Yeah, I have a feeling everything's going to be alright for me," Clark smiled. "I think i might have just met my future kid. Gonna have to remember to ground him for letting that thing out. But in the meantime, I want to meet up with Lana."
"Not so fast, cowboy," Pete said as he held out a hand to stop Clark. "FIrst there's something you need to know."
"We're almost there!" Damian shouted as Jon flew him through the air by the arms. "Just a little further!"
The monster jumped into the air to try to knock Jon out of the sky just as Jase zipped ahead of them to distract the creature.
"Hey, double ugly, keep your eyes on the prize!" Jase shouted as he tried to keep the monster focused. They finally led it to the lake where the portal was still open.
"Get it through!" Damian shouted. "We can't risk letting it run off again!"
Jon let Damian drop to the ground before flying forward and punching the monster from behind, sending it flying through the portal. Jon flew after, followed by Damian and Jase just as the portal closed.
Back at the dance, Lana was waiting just as Clark showed up dressed as Jack Torrance from The Shining, carrying his own axe.
"I got the message at the last message," Clark told her. "So I figured our costumes should match. Stephen King and his Stephen Queen."
"Horrible pun, bro." Whitney said as he slow danced with his date.
"You know this isn't a slow dance, right?" Clark asked him as he held out his hand for Lana. "But he might have the right idea."
As Lana took his hand for a dance, Pete just watched them and sighed to himself, sitting alone on the sidelines.
At the Fortress of Solitude, Jon, Damian and Jase fell face first onto the ground, looking up just in time to see the Kryptonian Flesh-Eater standing over them, drooling onto Jon's face. As the creature opened its mouth to reveal several rows of sharp teeth, the monster found itself dragged back downstairs at superspeed.
Within seconds, Superman returned, tossing the backpack with their costumes to the floor.
"Get your costumes back on," Superman told them. "We're going to have a little discussion."
The Following Weekend
"I can't believe I had to clean the entire fortress." Superboy said as he scrubbed the ceiling while floating under it.
"And Robin has to clean the Batcave and Impulse has to clean the Grand Canyon," Superman said. "Just be glad that I didn't tell your mother what happened. I'm just glad you're safe."
"Dad, can I ask you something?" Superboy asked as he floated back down to start sweeping.
"Sure, son."
"Why did you agree to wear a puppy costume?"
Impulse watched over the Grand Canyon, which was now so clean you could eat off it.
THE END
By Travis Hiltz
Berlin, 1946.
The Nazis have fallen.
Russian and American forces, weary from years of fighting, now squabble over territory and resources.
In what had once been a school yard, was parked a tank, its crew scattered about, smoking, reading, and making vague attempts at maintenance to the battered, patched together viechle.
Its whip-thin antenna drooped, a scrap of a confederate flag hung from it.
The four men, one thin with a mustache, one black and an old and young pair that bore a family resemblance, glanced up at the approach of another soldier.
Recently promoted Colonel Jeb Stuart and his crew had marched and fought their way across Europe and Africa, seeing more action then any other tank squad.
All were bone tired and eager to go home, but high command thought their battle record, experience, as well as the reputation of their ‘haunted tank’ would give the Russians pause.
“Okay, enough lazing’ about” Stuart said, waving away the mustached soldier, his gunner, Rick Rawlins’ offer of a cigarette.
“Haven’t we done enough?” Eddie Craig, the younger of the father/son soldier duo asked.
“I know you were hoping to just look imposing and the Russians would scamper back home,” Stuart said. “But, occasionally the brass wants you to pretend to work.”
“What’s the job?” Gus Gray, the black soldier in this rare, integrated squad asked, tucking a battered paperback into his jacket.
“Patrol didn’t return this morning,” Stuart shrugged. “Might just have overslept after getting a hold of some local brew or fraulins, but their sector was smack up against the Russian line…”
“So, Uncle Joe’s boys might be up to something,” Bill Craig, the oldest member of the tank crew nodded.
“Could be something, could be nothing,” Stuart explained. “But the hope is either, way, we got the rep that’ll keep the Russians friendly while we check it out. Ten minutes, we move out.”
The men groaned, but their commanding officer knew their protests were token efforts.
He strolled over to the far end of the schoolyard, having spotted a vague figure standing by the disused frame that used to be a swing set.
The ghostly figure of a bearded confederate general in full uniform tipped his hat to his fellow soldier.
“General,” Stuart replied, nodding in greeting. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, I was starting to wonder….”
The ghost was that of General J.E.B. Stuart, a relative of the current Stuart. For reasons unexplained, the ghostly soldier had spent the war looking after his kin. With the fighting winding down, Colonel Stuart had been seeing less and less of his mentor.
“Soon,” The General replied. “The fighting will be over and there’ll be no need for old soldiers, like myself.”
“But, today isn’t that day,” Stuart sighed rubbing a hand against his chin in thought. “I’ll keep a look out.”
“The Hun are defeated,” The General said. “But, some horrors cannot be hidden and forgotten.”
He gave his relative a salute, as he faded away.
Col. Stuart shook his head, realizing he was going to miss the ghostly presence.
He turned back to his expectant crew.
“You gonna stand around all day?” Stuart asked. “Let’s get to work.”
Father and son rode inside, as driver and loader, while the other three rode on top of the battered tank.
Stuart took the gunners position, while Rawlins and Gus perched as comfortably as they could manage.
Their destination was on the edges of Berlin. It was a sullen neighborhood, grey and decrepit, not entirely due to warfare, but also neglect and the elements: empty warehouses, shuttered businesses and construction that might never be completed.
The pavement was cracked, with tufts of grass growing up through the windows were mostly broken.
Rubble and ruin caused by the fighting was one thing, understandable. This abandonment and neglect was just drab and sad.
“Jesus,” Rawlins muttered. “Even the looters have barely touched this neighborhood.”
“I can see why the patrol might have decided to get drunk, if this is where they spent their nights,” Gus added.
Stuart nodded, but he felt something else, besides contempt for this dreary collection of buildings. Something beyond the General’s warning. The locals hadn’t just left this area to avoid the fighting; there was a weight to it. This neighborhood had been dying before the Allies came anywhere near it. The war gave the residents the excuse they’d needed to leave.
“Lord, this whole street is just sad,” Rawlins said. “I knew Mill towns back home like this…factory closed down and all the life goes out of the place.”
“Okay, this is good,” Stuart called down to Bill Craig. “Pull into that yard. You and Eddie will have a full view of the street, while we look around.”
While Stuart and the others climbed down, young Eddie Craig took a position at the gunners’ post.
“Fan out, but not to far apart,” He instructed. “Too easy to lose sight of each other and, if the Russians are up to something, I don’t want anyone wandering off to sightsee.”
“No argument here,” Rawlins said, unslinging his rifle.
The three soldiers walked down the road. Rawlins and Gus had their rifles out and ready. Stuart’s was still slung over his shoulder, but one hand was never far from the holster on his belt. He consulted a crude map, as they walked.
“Warehouse back there,” He muttered, looking around. “Just these couple buildings, some work yards and then its just roads, until the…I guess it used to be a hospital or rest home…”
“When you say ‘rest home’, do you mean ‘asylum’?” Gus asked.
“ I don’t know, maybe,” His commanding officer shrugged. “All our info is weak because the Russians grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and won’t share. My nephews back home could have drawn a better map.”
They walked past the buildings, calling out to the missing patrol, without much success. At the end of the street, there was just a long stretch of neglected yards and lots and then the old hospital, a squat grey building.
“Would they have gone that far?” Gus asked, nodding towards the old building.
“Seems a bit of a hike if they were just going to drink and fraternize,” Stuart muttered. “They were already within spitting distance of the Russian line. Why…?”
“What the hell!” Rawlins exclaimed, bringing up his gun. “Hands where I can see them! Schnell!”
A man had stepped out of a buildings, he was tall, dressed in a civilian suit and seemed as surprised at seeing the soldiers, as they were to see him.
“Come on!” Rawlins barked, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Hands up and not another step!”
Gus Grey brought up his gun to cover his friend.
Col. Stuart rested one hand on Rawlins’ shoulder.
“Take it easy.” He said, before stepping forward. “I’m going to need to see your papers, if you don’t mind.”
“I am not German,” He said, in a low, cultured tone.
“Bit of an accent,” Gus muttered. “But, it doesn’t sound Russian either.”
“Why are you men here?” The stranger asked.
His features were thin and pale, but handsome and he had a noble air about him. His hair was midnight black, with streaks of white. His eyes were even blacker. Despite being in the shadow of the brim of his hat, they seemed to glint with a reflected light.
“I think we’re asking the questions,” Stuart replied. “Name?”
“Andrew Bennett. I am an operative of the British military intelligence. I have papers.”
“Then I’d like to see them,” Stuart said. “Also like to know why you’re here.”
“Like you, I am looking for something,” Bennett replied, slowly reaching into his jacket and then holding out his papers.
“What makes you think we’re looking for something, Mr. Bennett?’ Stuart asked glancing at the Englishman’s papers and then handing them back.
“We are on the same side…Colonel,” Bennett replied, glancing at the other man’s rank insignia. “And neither of us are out for a stroll to see the sights.”
“A patrol did not report in this morning. Now, why are you interested in that old building?”
Stuart pointed towards the abandoned hospital.
The briefest of smiles touched the other man’s pale lips.
“The Russians grabbed whatever they could before they were made to share with their allies,” Bennett explained. “I have been helping sort through what paperwork I can, to piece together a more reliable map of Berlin and where the Nazis were concentrating resources, intelligence etc…”
“Hold on, what did the Nazis have here?” Stuart asked, pulling out his scrap of a map and peering at notes in the border. “They shut down the factory to move the workers to a munitions plant and the hospital was evacuated in 42…?”
“Really?” Bennett said, replacing his I.D. and taking out several other sheets of paper. “I have work orders, saying equipment was sent here as late as 1944.”
“I don’t like the sound of any of that,” Rawlins muttered to his squad mate.
Stuart glanced at his map, then back up at the newcomer. He chewed his lip in thought.
“Rawlins, head back to the tank.” He instructed. “Meet us at the hospital. Gus and I are going to scout ahead with Mr. Bennett.”
“Uh…Colonel…?” Rawlins replied, then shrugged and jogged off.
“You’re our eyes, Gus,” Stuart said. “Take the point.”
The young black soldier nodded and walked down the road.
“Are you protecting me or keeping an eye on me?” Bennett asked, dryly, as they walked.
“I’m dealing with an already tense situation, in a city full of political infighting and with a thriving black market for forged papers and a stranger just shows up, my first instinct is to keep an eye on him,” Stuart replied. “If you’re actually, British, I’ll feel a lot better about whoever is watching us…”
“Yes, I spotted them as well, and sad to say, they aren’t mine…Russians?”
“This day gets better by the minute,” Stuart muttered. The trio soon reached the old hospital. It was a forlorn building.
“I wish to see what files I can find,” Bennett said, as they stepped into the unwelcoming foyer.
“Then we’ll help you find an office, get you settled and then look for our missing men,”
The administrative section of the hospital was a narrow, wood-paneled corridor, lined with tiny offices. Their doors all hung open as the locks had been broken. Most of them looked ransacked.
“Did the Germans do this or the Russians?” Gus asked, looking around.
“The Germans would have had the keys,” Stuart said. “But, why’re the Russians still watching this place?”
Bennett had already emptied a file cabinet drawer and seated himself at a desk.
“If you’re going to be okay here, we’ll scout around,” Stuart told him.
Bennett merely nodded, intent on his mission.
“Something not right about this…” He muttered, as they searched.
“Something? Try everything about this mission,” Gus added, as they reached the main, central staircase. “Up or down?”
“Up. If this is R+R, then they’d go where the beds are.”
Whoever had ransacked the hospital had been less delicate at the patient wards. Furniture was broken, it looked like beds and wardrobes had been dragged, everywhere was dust and debris.
“There’s blood,” Gus said, pointing at dried streaks on the wall with his rifle.
“You take the right,” Stuart instructed. “I’m on the left. We take it room by room.”
The second room Stuart investigated was full of ghosts.
The ghosts of patients, sickly, dressed in hospital gowns or ragged pajamas, dozens of them, huddled in the corners, pressed close to the walls, fearful.
“What…?”
His connection to the General had left Stuart able to occasionally see other ghosts, but those had been few and far between. This was…something else.
“What happened?” He asked them, lowering his rifle. “Were there other soldiers here? I…um…can you understand me…?”
The ghosts watched him intently and then rushed forward, like a wave. They washed over him, sending him staggering back with a blast of icy chill and fear.
“Stop, this minute!” A familiar voice boomed.
General Stuart appeared; cavalry saber drawn, standing between his descendent and the ghosts. “This man is under my protection. You have no grievance with him.”
The crowd drew back, their fear made them manic, but also easily cowed.
“What’re they afraid of?” Stuart asked, stepping up next to the General. “What happened to them? It wasn’t the Russians. This place was supposedly deserted when they searched it…?”
“Find your men and leave this place,” The General advised. “I will do what I can to help these wretched souls.”
Stuart nodded, and pulled open the door, nearly colliding with Gus.
“Jeez! Colonel, you scared me out of three years growth! You okay?”
Stuart glanced back into the room, realizing his comrade saw nothing but an empty room.
“I spotted the tank and signaled for them to take up a position by the main door.” Gus explained. “When I got out, your door was closed and I heard voices.”
“We need to get out of here,” Stuart told him. “Don’t think we’re going to find those men here…something’s going on. Let’s collect Mister Bennett.”
Gus wasn’t sure what had happened to his C.O., but trusted him enough to follow his lead.
The two soldiers cautiously retraced their steps. Stuart caught glimpses of more ghosts, playing sentry and seeming to ensure the soldiers kept to the corridor.
Back in the foyer, Stuart could see no ghosts, but wasn’t sure if that was reassuring.
“I’ll get Bennett,” He said. “You check in. The Craigs stay with the tank. They cover the main doors and the Russians. You and Rawlins do a quick sweep of the first floor…no further!”
Stuart jogged down the corridor. The mysterious Englishman wasn’t where they’d left him.
“Damnit…!” He muttered.
He moved cautiously down the corridor, unsure if Bennett was a victim of something or acting on his own agenda. Three offices down, he found the bookcase had been pulled back from the wall, revealing a small door.
It opened on a narrow set of metal stairs.
Sighing at what he knew was a bad idea, Jeb Stuart, descended the stairs.
As he reached the bottom, something leapt out of the shadows at him.
Rawlins and Gus had done a quick sweep of the first floor.
“Anything?” Rawlins asked.
His black teammate opened his hand, revealing a few spent shell casings and ragged scraps of cloth off a military uniform.
“This gets better by the minute…!” Rawlins fumed. “What now?”
If we’re lucky, the colonel and the brit show up and we get the hell out of here,” Gus replied.
From outside, the pair heard voices shouting. Some of the shouting was in Russian.
The two men looked at each other, both hoping the other had a plan.
“Okay,” Gus said, anxiously. “I’ll finish the search, then go look for the Colonel, you keep the Russians back.”
“I’m guessing you prefer I didn’t just shoot them?” His friend replied.
Stuart’s attacker was Bennett.
The Englishman’s suit was disheveled, smeared with dirt and some liquid that Stuart hoped wasn’t blood. He’d also lost his hat and the eyes that currently peered at him were red with a coal-black pupil.
“It is just me, Colonel,” He said, raising his hands.
“I’m going to need a better reason not to shoot you,” Stuart said, his rifle pointed clearly between the other man’s unnerving eyes.
“Col. Stuart, we are in grave danger.” Bennett said.
“I know. Now convince me you’re actually on my side.”
Bennett ground his teeth in a combination of pain and frustration. They seemed unnaturally sharp and white.
“You knew this was down here,” Stuart said. “And you knew it was dangerous…probably killed the men I’m looking for, but kept that to yourself.”
“Yes, shocking…an espionage agent lied,” Bennett muttered. “We have more important things to worry about!”
“Then you probably should be talking faster,” Stuart said, not lowering his rifle.
Bennett glared at him in frustration, then glanced over his shoulder, and sighed.
“Fine, hopefully we aren’t interrupted before I convince you,” Bennett muttered, grimly. “The Nazis conducted a great many horrific scientific studies, as well as pursuing Hitler’s obsession that the key to German victory lay in the occult…”
“I know, my crew and I had our fair share of encounters with that kind of stuff,” Stuart interrupted. He glanced up, at a distant sound.
“I’ve been focusing on the Nazi’s alliance with a group calling itself the cult of the blood red moon.” Bennett continued. “You know them?”
“Heard the rumors,” Stuart nodded. “They specialized in…serums, using blood…thought they could create super soldiers…rumors about vampires…that what you’re after? A vampire?”
“No,” Bennett said, straightening up. “Something worse.”
“What’re we looking for?” Stuart asked.
“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” Bennett replied with grim humor. “Luckily, there seems to be only one, but we can’t let it get loose.”
“Or let the Russians get a hold of it?”
Bennett nodded and turned back down the narrow corridor. Stuart stayed close behind him.
“I still have questions about you,” He said, quietly.
“As do I about you,” The Englishman replied. “And your spectral ‘chaperone’.”
The conversation was halted by a noise, a scrabbling sound, like claws on the concrete floor. It sounded like a rat to Stuart, but loud as it was, it would have to be an enormous rat.
The soldier tightened his grip on his gun.
“It might help if I knew what I was looking for,” He muttered.
“Nazi scientists, allied with the Blood Red Moon, experimented with various serums,” Bennett quietly explained, as they crept along. “In hopes of creating a vampire…then, they got hold of an actual vampire and some idiot, desperate as the allies approached Berlin, decided to inject it with one of their potions…”
“The Nazis didn’t evacuate this hospital did they?” Stuart asked, a disturbing realization occurring to him.
“No.” Bennett replied.
The scrabbling noise was growing louder…nearer.
Bennett stopped, his head raised, as though he was sniffing the air.
“Glancing around, Stuart could make out that the rooms opening off the concrete tunnel were horrible versions of the rooms above.
“They practically built a hospital beneath the hospital,” He breathed.
“We can’t spend all day searching,” Bennett said, thoughtfully. “If the Russians get involved…!”
He turned to Stuart.
“Give me your hand.”
“What?” The soldier asked, confused, but doing as asked.
Bennett reached out and slashed at the soldier’s forearm with a talon-like fingernail.
As Stuart flinched back, the Englishman grabbed hold of his wrist, and squeezed, letting blood drip onto the dirty, concrete floor.
“What are you doing…?” Stuart, struggling to pull his arm back.
A screech echoed through the tunnel and the scrabbling became even louder.
A side door was flung open, practically off its hinges, and something emerged.
It was the size of a man, but had the features of a malformed bat. It shambled along, using its bony arms as much as its bowed legs. At one time it may have sported wings, but they had been reduced to tatters of leathery skin hanging from its arms.
Its misshapen head jerked around, struggling to both sniff and taste the air around it.
Stuart soon realized the creature was blind, its mismatched eyes both covered in a milky film.
Its mouth sported only a few remaining teeth, but they all looked quite capable of gnawing through flesh, and he could understand why the wraiths upstairs still cowered in fear.
The monstrosity raced towards the two men.
Stuarts’ gun was immediately at his shoulder, as he pushed pasted Bennett and began to fire.
The creature stumbled under the onslaught of bullets and black, sludgy blood spurted from its wounds, but it was only slowed, not halted.
It hit the walls, pushed itself along, maddened by the smell of fresh blood.
Stuart fired until his rifle clicked empty.
He frantically reloaded, as the creature lunged at the duo.
Bennett stepped forward, caught its thin wrists and dug his heels in. His body trembled with the effort, but the Englishman was steadily pushed back.
The creature snarled and snapped, its uneven fangs tearing strips of cloth from Bennett’s’ sleeves.
With a mighty effort the creature lifted Bennett upwards, slamming him against the pipes that ran along the ceiling, then back down upon Jeb Stuart.
Both men landed in a heap, dazed and struggling to regain their feet.
Their opponent hunched his shoulders, clawed at the floor and prepared to feast upon them.
Suddenly, the ghostly figure of J.E.B. Stuart was standing in front of them and lunged forward, skewering the beast with his cavalry saber.
It reared, screeching in pain and surprise.
The younger Stuart, lurched, sitting up, and fired, shattering the creatures’ knees and then, blasting at its hideous face as it collapsed to the floor.
Andrew Bennett stepped up, grasped the creature by its grotesque bat ears and wrenched its head, until neck bones cracked like dry kindling.
Bennett continued to twist, until muscle ripped and he tore the head loose from its scrawny neck.
He tossed the head away.
He turned to see Stuart, who hadn’t lowered his rifle. It was obvious the tank commander was unsure how many monsters were in the corridor with him.
“We both have secrets, Colonel,” Bennett said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood off his hands. “Now is not the time to talk.”
Reluctantly, Stuart nodded and the duo made their way back upstairs.
“I have seen a…uh…lot of strange things,” Stuart said. “And…uh… you helped…me, so I’m willing to give benefit of the doubt, but…”
Distant shouting voices interrupted him.
“Damn, the Russians…!”
The two jogged down past the offices and through the foyer.
The tank was parked in front of the main hospital doors, and Stuart and Bennett had to squeeze past it.
Rawlins and Gus were perched on top, their guns, along with the tank’s turret pointed at three jeepfulls of heavily armed, loudly shouting Russian soldiers.
Rawlins was shouting angrily back at them.
“Damnit…!” Stuart muttered.
“What is going on?” Bennett asked, trying to stay within the shadow of the tank.
“None of my men speak Russian!” Stuart said, as he hurried around the tank and in between the two groups of anxious and increasingly angry soldiers.
In broken Russian, Stuart introduced himself, his men and their mission. Then, as tactfully as possible inquired what the Soviets were doing on the American side of the line.
Stuart’s laughter at Russian C.O.’s reply startled his men and even Bennett.
‘What?” Rawlins asked, tensely. “What?”
“They’d like to talk with us about three very hung over American soldiers that they’ve taken into “protective custody” to keep them safe from…six…maybe seven very irate German fathers and at least four marriage-minded young ladies.”
“Yikes…!” Rawlins breathed, lowering his gun.
“Someone had a busy night,” Gus added.
A few more minutes, and Stuart had arranged for a transfer of the “endangered” soldiers and sent his crew along to collect the missing patrol.
He and Bennett were left standing in front of the old hospital.
“What happens now?” Stuart asked.
“If you’re very lucky, you will soon get to go home and tell stories to your children about the war,” Bennett replied, wistfully, implying that there was no such ending to his own mission. “I will collect what papers of value I can scavenge and then, sadly, have to report about the unfortunate fire which destroyed this building.”
“German wiring,” Stuart shrugged. “Shoddy, unreliable stuff.”
As the two men shook hands, the American soldier passed the British vampire a pack of matches.
The Nazis have fallen.
Russian and American forces, weary from years of fighting, now squabble over territory and resources.
In what had once been a school yard, was parked a tank, its crew scattered about, smoking, reading, and making vague attempts at maintenance to the battered, patched together viechle.
Its whip-thin antenna drooped, a scrap of a confederate flag hung from it.
The four men, one thin with a mustache, one black and an old and young pair that bore a family resemblance, glanced up at the approach of another soldier.
Recently promoted Colonel Jeb Stuart and his crew had marched and fought their way across Europe and Africa, seeing more action then any other tank squad.
All were bone tired and eager to go home, but high command thought their battle record, experience, as well as the reputation of their ‘haunted tank’ would give the Russians pause.
“Okay, enough lazing’ about” Stuart said, waving away the mustached soldier, his gunner, Rick Rawlins’ offer of a cigarette.
“Haven’t we done enough?” Eddie Craig, the younger of the father/son soldier duo asked.
“I know you were hoping to just look imposing and the Russians would scamper back home,” Stuart said. “But, occasionally the brass wants you to pretend to work.”
“What’s the job?” Gus Gray, the black soldier in this rare, integrated squad asked, tucking a battered paperback into his jacket.
“Patrol didn’t return this morning,” Stuart shrugged. “Might just have overslept after getting a hold of some local brew or fraulins, but their sector was smack up against the Russian line…”
“So, Uncle Joe’s boys might be up to something,” Bill Craig, the oldest member of the tank crew nodded.
“Could be something, could be nothing,” Stuart explained. “But the hope is either, way, we got the rep that’ll keep the Russians friendly while we check it out. Ten minutes, we move out.”
The men groaned, but their commanding officer knew their protests were token efforts.
He strolled over to the far end of the schoolyard, having spotted a vague figure standing by the disused frame that used to be a swing set.
The ghostly figure of a bearded confederate general in full uniform tipped his hat to his fellow soldier.
“General,” Stuart replied, nodding in greeting. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, I was starting to wonder….”
The ghost was that of General J.E.B. Stuart, a relative of the current Stuart. For reasons unexplained, the ghostly soldier had spent the war looking after his kin. With the fighting winding down, Colonel Stuart had been seeing less and less of his mentor.
“Soon,” The General replied. “The fighting will be over and there’ll be no need for old soldiers, like myself.”
“But, today isn’t that day,” Stuart sighed rubbing a hand against his chin in thought. “I’ll keep a look out.”
“The Hun are defeated,” The General said. “But, some horrors cannot be hidden and forgotten.”
He gave his relative a salute, as he faded away.
Col. Stuart shook his head, realizing he was going to miss the ghostly presence.
He turned back to his expectant crew.
“You gonna stand around all day?” Stuart asked. “Let’s get to work.”
Father and son rode inside, as driver and loader, while the other three rode on top of the battered tank.
Stuart took the gunners position, while Rawlins and Gus perched as comfortably as they could manage.
Their destination was on the edges of Berlin. It was a sullen neighborhood, grey and decrepit, not entirely due to warfare, but also neglect and the elements: empty warehouses, shuttered businesses and construction that might never be completed.
The pavement was cracked, with tufts of grass growing up through the windows were mostly broken.
Rubble and ruin caused by the fighting was one thing, understandable. This abandonment and neglect was just drab and sad.
“Jesus,” Rawlins muttered. “Even the looters have barely touched this neighborhood.”
“I can see why the patrol might have decided to get drunk, if this is where they spent their nights,” Gus added.
Stuart nodded, but he felt something else, besides contempt for this dreary collection of buildings. Something beyond the General’s warning. The locals hadn’t just left this area to avoid the fighting; there was a weight to it. This neighborhood had been dying before the Allies came anywhere near it. The war gave the residents the excuse they’d needed to leave.
“Lord, this whole street is just sad,” Rawlins said. “I knew Mill towns back home like this…factory closed down and all the life goes out of the place.”
“Okay, this is good,” Stuart called down to Bill Craig. “Pull into that yard. You and Eddie will have a full view of the street, while we look around.”
While Stuart and the others climbed down, young Eddie Craig took a position at the gunners’ post.
“Fan out, but not to far apart,” He instructed. “Too easy to lose sight of each other and, if the Russians are up to something, I don’t want anyone wandering off to sightsee.”
“No argument here,” Rawlins said, unslinging his rifle.
The three soldiers walked down the road. Rawlins and Gus had their rifles out and ready. Stuart’s was still slung over his shoulder, but one hand was never far from the holster on his belt. He consulted a crude map, as they walked.
“Warehouse back there,” He muttered, looking around. “Just these couple buildings, some work yards and then its just roads, until the…I guess it used to be a hospital or rest home…”
“When you say ‘rest home’, do you mean ‘asylum’?” Gus asked.
“ I don’t know, maybe,” His commanding officer shrugged. “All our info is weak because the Russians grabbed whatever they could get their hands on and won’t share. My nephews back home could have drawn a better map.”
They walked past the buildings, calling out to the missing patrol, without much success. At the end of the street, there was just a long stretch of neglected yards and lots and then the old hospital, a squat grey building.
“Would they have gone that far?” Gus asked, nodding towards the old building.
“Seems a bit of a hike if they were just going to drink and fraternize,” Stuart muttered. “They were already within spitting distance of the Russian line. Why…?”
“What the hell!” Rawlins exclaimed, bringing up his gun. “Hands where I can see them! Schnell!”
A man had stepped out of a buildings, he was tall, dressed in a civilian suit and seemed as surprised at seeing the soldiers, as they were to see him.
“Come on!” Rawlins barked, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Hands up and not another step!”
Gus Grey brought up his gun to cover his friend.
Col. Stuart rested one hand on Rawlins’ shoulder.
“Take it easy.” He said, before stepping forward. “I’m going to need to see your papers, if you don’t mind.”
“I am not German,” He said, in a low, cultured tone.
“Bit of an accent,” Gus muttered. “But, it doesn’t sound Russian either.”
“Why are you men here?” The stranger asked.
His features were thin and pale, but handsome and he had a noble air about him. His hair was midnight black, with streaks of white. His eyes were even blacker. Despite being in the shadow of the brim of his hat, they seemed to glint with a reflected light.
“I think we’re asking the questions,” Stuart replied. “Name?”
“Andrew Bennett. I am an operative of the British military intelligence. I have papers.”
“Then I’d like to see them,” Stuart said. “Also like to know why you’re here.”
“Like you, I am looking for something,” Bennett replied, slowly reaching into his jacket and then holding out his papers.
“What makes you think we’re looking for something, Mr. Bennett?’ Stuart asked glancing at the Englishman’s papers and then handing them back.
“We are on the same side…Colonel,” Bennett replied, glancing at the other man’s rank insignia. “And neither of us are out for a stroll to see the sights.”
“A patrol did not report in this morning. Now, why are you interested in that old building?”
Stuart pointed towards the abandoned hospital.
The briefest of smiles touched the other man’s pale lips.
“The Russians grabbed whatever they could before they were made to share with their allies,” Bennett explained. “I have been helping sort through what paperwork I can, to piece together a more reliable map of Berlin and where the Nazis were concentrating resources, intelligence etc…”
“Hold on, what did the Nazis have here?” Stuart asked, pulling out his scrap of a map and peering at notes in the border. “They shut down the factory to move the workers to a munitions plant and the hospital was evacuated in 42…?”
“Really?” Bennett said, replacing his I.D. and taking out several other sheets of paper. “I have work orders, saying equipment was sent here as late as 1944.”
“I don’t like the sound of any of that,” Rawlins muttered to his squad mate.
Stuart glanced at his map, then back up at the newcomer. He chewed his lip in thought.
“Rawlins, head back to the tank.” He instructed. “Meet us at the hospital. Gus and I are going to scout ahead with Mr. Bennett.”
“Uh…Colonel…?” Rawlins replied, then shrugged and jogged off.
“You’re our eyes, Gus,” Stuart said. “Take the point.”
The young black soldier nodded and walked down the road.
“Are you protecting me or keeping an eye on me?” Bennett asked, dryly, as they walked.
“I’m dealing with an already tense situation, in a city full of political infighting and with a thriving black market for forged papers and a stranger just shows up, my first instinct is to keep an eye on him,” Stuart replied. “If you’re actually, British, I’ll feel a lot better about whoever is watching us…”
“Yes, I spotted them as well, and sad to say, they aren’t mine…Russians?”
“This day gets better by the minute,” Stuart muttered. The trio soon reached the old hospital. It was a forlorn building.
“I wish to see what files I can find,” Bennett said, as they stepped into the unwelcoming foyer.
“Then we’ll help you find an office, get you settled and then look for our missing men,”
The administrative section of the hospital was a narrow, wood-paneled corridor, lined with tiny offices. Their doors all hung open as the locks had been broken. Most of them looked ransacked.
“Did the Germans do this or the Russians?” Gus asked, looking around.
“The Germans would have had the keys,” Stuart said. “But, why’re the Russians still watching this place?”
Bennett had already emptied a file cabinet drawer and seated himself at a desk.
“If you’re going to be okay here, we’ll scout around,” Stuart told him.
Bennett merely nodded, intent on his mission.
“Something not right about this…” He muttered, as they searched.
“Something? Try everything about this mission,” Gus added, as they reached the main, central staircase. “Up or down?”
“Up. If this is R+R, then they’d go where the beds are.”
Whoever had ransacked the hospital had been less delicate at the patient wards. Furniture was broken, it looked like beds and wardrobes had been dragged, everywhere was dust and debris.
“There’s blood,” Gus said, pointing at dried streaks on the wall with his rifle.
“You take the right,” Stuart instructed. “I’m on the left. We take it room by room.”
The second room Stuart investigated was full of ghosts.
The ghosts of patients, sickly, dressed in hospital gowns or ragged pajamas, dozens of them, huddled in the corners, pressed close to the walls, fearful.
“What…?”
His connection to the General had left Stuart able to occasionally see other ghosts, but those had been few and far between. This was…something else.
“What happened?” He asked them, lowering his rifle. “Were there other soldiers here? I…um…can you understand me…?”
The ghosts watched him intently and then rushed forward, like a wave. They washed over him, sending him staggering back with a blast of icy chill and fear.
“Stop, this minute!” A familiar voice boomed.
General Stuart appeared; cavalry saber drawn, standing between his descendent and the ghosts. “This man is under my protection. You have no grievance with him.”
The crowd drew back, their fear made them manic, but also easily cowed.
“What’re they afraid of?” Stuart asked, stepping up next to the General. “What happened to them? It wasn’t the Russians. This place was supposedly deserted when they searched it…?”
“Find your men and leave this place,” The General advised. “I will do what I can to help these wretched souls.”
Stuart nodded, and pulled open the door, nearly colliding with Gus.
“Jeez! Colonel, you scared me out of three years growth! You okay?”
Stuart glanced back into the room, realizing his comrade saw nothing but an empty room.
“I spotted the tank and signaled for them to take up a position by the main door.” Gus explained. “When I got out, your door was closed and I heard voices.”
“We need to get out of here,” Stuart told him. “Don’t think we’re going to find those men here…something’s going on. Let’s collect Mister Bennett.”
Gus wasn’t sure what had happened to his C.O., but trusted him enough to follow his lead.
The two soldiers cautiously retraced their steps. Stuart caught glimpses of more ghosts, playing sentry and seeming to ensure the soldiers kept to the corridor.
Back in the foyer, Stuart could see no ghosts, but wasn’t sure if that was reassuring.
“I’ll get Bennett,” He said. “You check in. The Craigs stay with the tank. They cover the main doors and the Russians. You and Rawlins do a quick sweep of the first floor…no further!”
Stuart jogged down the corridor. The mysterious Englishman wasn’t where they’d left him.
“Damnit…!” He muttered.
He moved cautiously down the corridor, unsure if Bennett was a victim of something or acting on his own agenda. Three offices down, he found the bookcase had been pulled back from the wall, revealing a small door.
It opened on a narrow set of metal stairs.
Sighing at what he knew was a bad idea, Jeb Stuart, descended the stairs.
As he reached the bottom, something leapt out of the shadows at him.
Rawlins and Gus had done a quick sweep of the first floor.
“Anything?” Rawlins asked.
His black teammate opened his hand, revealing a few spent shell casings and ragged scraps of cloth off a military uniform.
“This gets better by the minute…!” Rawlins fumed. “What now?”
If we’re lucky, the colonel and the brit show up and we get the hell out of here,” Gus replied.
From outside, the pair heard voices shouting. Some of the shouting was in Russian.
The two men looked at each other, both hoping the other had a plan.
“Okay,” Gus said, anxiously. “I’ll finish the search, then go look for the Colonel, you keep the Russians back.”
“I’m guessing you prefer I didn’t just shoot them?” His friend replied.
Stuart’s attacker was Bennett.
The Englishman’s suit was disheveled, smeared with dirt and some liquid that Stuart hoped wasn’t blood. He’d also lost his hat and the eyes that currently peered at him were red with a coal-black pupil.
“It is just me, Colonel,” He said, raising his hands.
“I’m going to need a better reason not to shoot you,” Stuart said, his rifle pointed clearly between the other man’s unnerving eyes.
“Col. Stuart, we are in grave danger.” Bennett said.
“I know. Now convince me you’re actually on my side.”
Bennett ground his teeth in a combination of pain and frustration. They seemed unnaturally sharp and white.
“You knew this was down here,” Stuart said. “And you knew it was dangerous…probably killed the men I’m looking for, but kept that to yourself.”
“Yes, shocking…an espionage agent lied,” Bennett muttered. “We have more important things to worry about!”
“Then you probably should be talking faster,” Stuart said, not lowering his rifle.
Bennett glared at him in frustration, then glanced over his shoulder, and sighed.
“Fine, hopefully we aren’t interrupted before I convince you,” Bennett muttered, grimly. “The Nazis conducted a great many horrific scientific studies, as well as pursuing Hitler’s obsession that the key to German victory lay in the occult…”
“I know, my crew and I had our fair share of encounters with that kind of stuff,” Stuart interrupted. He glanced up, at a distant sound.
“I’ve been focusing on the Nazi’s alliance with a group calling itself the cult of the blood red moon.” Bennett continued. “You know them?”
“Heard the rumors,” Stuart nodded. “They specialized in…serums, using blood…thought they could create super soldiers…rumors about vampires…that what you’re after? A vampire?”
“No,” Bennett said, straightening up. “Something worse.”
“What’re we looking for?” Stuart asked.
“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” Bennett replied with grim humor. “Luckily, there seems to be only one, but we can’t let it get loose.”
“Or let the Russians get a hold of it?”
Bennett nodded and turned back down the narrow corridor. Stuart stayed close behind him.
“I still have questions about you,” He said, quietly.
“As do I about you,” The Englishman replied. “And your spectral ‘chaperone’.”
The conversation was halted by a noise, a scrabbling sound, like claws on the concrete floor. It sounded like a rat to Stuart, but loud as it was, it would have to be an enormous rat.
The soldier tightened his grip on his gun.
“It might help if I knew what I was looking for,” He muttered.
“Nazi scientists, allied with the Blood Red Moon, experimented with various serums,” Bennett quietly explained, as they crept along. “In hopes of creating a vampire…then, they got hold of an actual vampire and some idiot, desperate as the allies approached Berlin, decided to inject it with one of their potions…”
“The Nazis didn’t evacuate this hospital did they?” Stuart asked, a disturbing realization occurring to him.
“No.” Bennett replied.
The scrabbling noise was growing louder…nearer.
Bennett stopped, his head raised, as though he was sniffing the air.
“Glancing around, Stuart could make out that the rooms opening off the concrete tunnel were horrible versions of the rooms above.
“They practically built a hospital beneath the hospital,” He breathed.
“We can’t spend all day searching,” Bennett said, thoughtfully. “If the Russians get involved…!”
He turned to Stuart.
“Give me your hand.”
“What?” The soldier asked, confused, but doing as asked.
Bennett reached out and slashed at the soldier’s forearm with a talon-like fingernail.
As Stuart flinched back, the Englishman grabbed hold of his wrist, and squeezed, letting blood drip onto the dirty, concrete floor.
“What are you doing…?” Stuart, struggling to pull his arm back.
A screech echoed through the tunnel and the scrabbling became even louder.
A side door was flung open, practically off its hinges, and something emerged.
It was the size of a man, but had the features of a malformed bat. It shambled along, using its bony arms as much as its bowed legs. At one time it may have sported wings, but they had been reduced to tatters of leathery skin hanging from its arms.
Its misshapen head jerked around, struggling to both sniff and taste the air around it.
Stuart soon realized the creature was blind, its mismatched eyes both covered in a milky film.
Its mouth sported only a few remaining teeth, but they all looked quite capable of gnawing through flesh, and he could understand why the wraiths upstairs still cowered in fear.
The monstrosity raced towards the two men.
Stuarts’ gun was immediately at his shoulder, as he pushed pasted Bennett and began to fire.
The creature stumbled under the onslaught of bullets and black, sludgy blood spurted from its wounds, but it was only slowed, not halted.
It hit the walls, pushed itself along, maddened by the smell of fresh blood.
Stuart fired until his rifle clicked empty.
He frantically reloaded, as the creature lunged at the duo.
Bennett stepped forward, caught its thin wrists and dug his heels in. His body trembled with the effort, but the Englishman was steadily pushed back.
The creature snarled and snapped, its uneven fangs tearing strips of cloth from Bennett’s’ sleeves.
With a mighty effort the creature lifted Bennett upwards, slamming him against the pipes that ran along the ceiling, then back down upon Jeb Stuart.
Both men landed in a heap, dazed and struggling to regain their feet.
Their opponent hunched his shoulders, clawed at the floor and prepared to feast upon them.
Suddenly, the ghostly figure of J.E.B. Stuart was standing in front of them and lunged forward, skewering the beast with his cavalry saber.
It reared, screeching in pain and surprise.
The younger Stuart, lurched, sitting up, and fired, shattering the creatures’ knees and then, blasting at its hideous face as it collapsed to the floor.
Andrew Bennett stepped up, grasped the creature by its grotesque bat ears and wrenched its head, until neck bones cracked like dry kindling.
Bennett continued to twist, until muscle ripped and he tore the head loose from its scrawny neck.
He tossed the head away.
He turned to see Stuart, who hadn’t lowered his rifle. It was obvious the tank commander was unsure how many monsters were in the corridor with him.
“We both have secrets, Colonel,” Bennett said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping the blood off his hands. “Now is not the time to talk.”
Reluctantly, Stuart nodded and the duo made their way back upstairs.
“I have seen a…uh…lot of strange things,” Stuart said. “And…uh… you helped…me, so I’m willing to give benefit of the doubt, but…”
Distant shouting voices interrupted him.
“Damn, the Russians…!”
The two jogged down past the offices and through the foyer.
The tank was parked in front of the main hospital doors, and Stuart and Bennett had to squeeze past it.
Rawlins and Gus were perched on top, their guns, along with the tank’s turret pointed at three jeepfulls of heavily armed, loudly shouting Russian soldiers.
Rawlins was shouting angrily back at them.
“Damnit…!” Stuart muttered.
“What is going on?” Bennett asked, trying to stay within the shadow of the tank.
“None of my men speak Russian!” Stuart said, as he hurried around the tank and in between the two groups of anxious and increasingly angry soldiers.
In broken Russian, Stuart introduced himself, his men and their mission. Then, as tactfully as possible inquired what the Soviets were doing on the American side of the line.
Stuart’s laughter at Russian C.O.’s reply startled his men and even Bennett.
‘What?” Rawlins asked, tensely. “What?”
“They’d like to talk with us about three very hung over American soldiers that they’ve taken into “protective custody” to keep them safe from…six…maybe seven very irate German fathers and at least four marriage-minded young ladies.”
“Yikes…!” Rawlins breathed, lowering his gun.
“Someone had a busy night,” Gus added.
A few more minutes, and Stuart had arranged for a transfer of the “endangered” soldiers and sent his crew along to collect the missing patrol.
He and Bennett were left standing in front of the old hospital.
“What happens now?” Stuart asked.
“If you’re very lucky, you will soon get to go home and tell stories to your children about the war,” Bennett replied, wistfully, implying that there was no such ending to his own mission. “I will collect what papers of value I can scavenge and then, sadly, have to report about the unfortunate fire which destroyed this building.”
“German wiring,” Stuart shrugged. “Shoddy, unreliable stuff.”
As the two men shook hands, the American soldier passed the British vampire a pack of matches.