Gregg pushed his forefinger onto his lips instructing her to remain silent. He withdrew his gun before moving towards the door in the opposite corner of the classroom.
Jill followed.
The glass in the top half of the door was frosted, obscuring any detail beyond it. But to his right, Gregg could see daylight coming through a window. He pushed open the door and looked left through the gap. ‘There’s a stairway, stay quiet, and wait here for me. You got that?’
Jill nodded.
Gregg pushed two fingers on the door opening it just wide enough for him to squeeze through; if it creaked, his element of surprise was gone. Silence, a good enough start. Using all fours to spread his weight, he crept up stair by stair. At the top was another door leading into the room where the thud had come from. Who ever was up there would no doubt be armed, so he’d have to be ready for that, and with a quiet click, he chambered a round.
Big mistake, his weight shifted, causing one of the stairs to creak.
‘That you Sheldon?’ said a voice coming from just beyond the door.
Gregg froze. He looked back to see Jill frantically nodding up at him. ‘Yeah,’ he said, but was that generic enough to throw the guy?
The gunshot bursting through the wood panelling just above his head and showering him in splinters said no, it wasn’t. After hearing the rapid movement of feet, Gregg looked through the solitary bullet hole. He caught sight of a tall, black man, opening another door then disappearing through that. Gregg entered the room hiding himself behind a wooden crate. He waited, crouching, listening for movement. He heard a quiet scattering noise coming from behind and turned ready to shoot.
No-one there.
Just dust falling from above. The attic?
Moving over to the door, he pushed it open to reveal yet another staircase. This one was dark, foreboding. If the guy was standing right before him, he wouldn’t know he was there. Again, and as silent as he could, he ascended the stairs. After climbing no more than two, he saw a flash, a shot rang out. Burning pain raged through Gregg’s left shoulder, he raised his gun and managed a single shot of his own.
A cry of pain followed by footsteps moving back into the attic meant his aim was one of luck, rather than skill. Gregg slipped his hand inside his jacket where he found the wound to be only slight, possibly tissue damage at worst. But that didn’t stop it from smarting like a twat. He carried on climbing, and as he neared the top, two more shots pierced the woodwork just above his head, again showering him in splinters.
Gregg’s only chance of hitting this guy would be to empty his gun into the attic, but there was no certainty or guarantee he’d be successful. Other than that, he could wait for him; make him believe his last two shots had hit their target. But waiting was a luxury, a luxury neither he nor Jill could afford right now. Gregg licked his lips, he was about to poke his gun around the edge of the door and blast away until his ammo was spent, but what stopped him was three very loud gunshots coming from the room below, and unquestionably coming from a 3.57 Magnum.
A crashing sound from inside the attic, followed by a dull thud, caused Gregg to look beyond the doorway he was about to shoot through. Other than a shaft of light coming from below, the attic was empty.
When Gregg returned downstairs, he found Jill standing over the man, and both of them surrounded by a thick cloud of dust.
‘Nice shootin’, Tex,’ he said.
Jill shrugged, moving her poncho aside to put the gun away. ‘I just fired where the dust was fall’ That’s when she noticed a hole in his jacket. ‘He shot you?’
‘It’s just a flesh wound,’ he said, dismissively.
‘Let me see.’
Gregg seemed concerned with Jill’s marksmanship. ‘So you had no idea who it was you were shooting at?’ he said, removing the jacket.
‘No, I guess you’re just lucky around me.’
He realised then that the man at his feet could have so easily been him. ‘I thought I told you not to move?’
Jill lifted the heavily blood-stained sleeve of his white T-shirt. ‘Actually, that’s not quite what you said, you told me to wait, which I did.’
‘Yeah, I meant until I got back.’
‘And if you didn’t get back, what should I have done then? If this shot had hit you in the head, and not your arm, what should I have done? Wait for him to come instead of you? And oh, by the way, Jill ... thanks,’ she said, releasing the sleeve. The bullet had passed through his muscle taking with it a chunk of flesh the same size as her thumb. And already the bleeding had stopped.‘It’ll need dressing, but I suppose you’ll live!’ she told him.
Gregg held up his good hand. ‘Okay I’m sorry, and for what it’s worth, thank you.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ she said, turning away. ‘It was nothing, really!’
‘Hey, I said I’m sorry.’ Gregg moved closer to her. ‘I didn’t mean to-’
When she turned, her face was only inches from his. Gregg looked deep into her eyes; they were smooth, dark, and to him looked like the-
‘We gotta find Sheldon,’ she said, breaking his train of thought.
‘What?’
‘Sheldon, remember?’
‘Oh yeah, right, right,’ Gregg stood still for a moment, his mouth, a half-smile, and his mind very much elsewhere.
Jill headed for the stairs. ‘Come on, Gregg.’
They returned to the classroom where Jill opened the desk of David Marsh once more, she took the folded piece of paper from inside and pushed it into her back pocket.
‘Why’d you do that?’
Jill shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just didn’t want to leave it here.’
Gregg wasn’t chancing the stairs in the shaft; he wrapped his legs around the rope and only using one arm, slid to the tunnel floor below. Jill on the other hand, rather than being reminded of her snake phobia, did chance the stairs.
They headed into the tunnel that would eventually take them to the library, but shortly after they entered, they came upon a wall of earth. The roof of the tunnel had collapsed, and their way forward was blocked. They couldn’t search the library. This also meant if another one of them was in there, they needn’t worry about it. When they reached the cross over with the main tunnel, Gregg shone the flashlight left and right to make sure it was still vacant. It was.
According to the map, they’d now reached the steps under the garage, and to their right was the tunnel leading to the cinema. Gregg put his weight on the first step expecting it to give way, but it held. He made his way to the top and pushed the door open a few inches. Apart from the wind and rain hitting the building, all was quiet. The place looked to be deserted.
‘Looks all clear,’ he said, then entered.
The walls were grey corrugated metal, as was the roof, but that was inlaid with defused white plastic sky-lights. It looked to be around sixty-feet long by roughly forty-feet wide, and had the smell of petroleum fumes. On the wall that faced across the street to the schoolhouse, was a rusty steel door with a padlock fastened on the inside, next to that was a closed roller shutter, painted a dark green colour, most of which had flaked off.
The amount of light entering through the roof wasn’t great, but it was enough to see by, and there was no need to advertise their position by switching on any of the lights. A thin layer of dust covered the red painted concrete floor, with small puddles from roof leakage dotted all around. On the left hand side of the roller shutter was a small room with clear glass windows, and a grey wood panelled door bearing the sign,
“Office”
An old oil truck, with a severely cracked windshield was parked inside the garage, along with a wheel-less mini-bus, propped up on wooden blocks. Gregg picked up a spanner from the floor and began tapping on the oil truck’s bulbous tank. The faded logo on the side read, “Mobil”. He tapped and raised, and tapped and raised a half dozen times, trying to find its true oil level. He reckoned the severely rusted tank to be almost three-quarters full.
Jill stood by the office where she lifted a small bunch of keys from a nail on the doorframe. ‘Gregg,’ she called, tossing them over.
Hardly looking up, Gregg caught the keys one-handed and opened the truck’s door. He climbed in to find the interior a complete wreck, loose papers were scattered all about the cab, there were dark-red, almost brown stains on the floor and the inside of the doors, probably rust, but it could be something else, and splinters of glass from the cracked windshield peppered the long single seat. It was by no means a stretch-limo, but if he could get it started and it got them out of there, it’s was good as.
There were two ignition keys on the bunch Jill tossed to him, he pushed one in and tried to twist it, but it wouldn’t turn. He tried with the second key and to his amazement it turned all the way, only thing was, nothing happened. He pulled the lever to dislodge the hood and climbed back out to inspect the engine. Everything looked in order except the battery compartment; the battery had leaked acid, corroding all the wires around it, rendering the truck totally useless.
Gregg was still looking at the charred remains when the sound of a door creaking open caused him to look up. Jill had entered the office and was now beckoning for him to come over.
‘The trucks had it,’ he said, on reaching the door. ‘Battery acid’s melted everything.’
‘Never mind that, take a look outside,’ she told him.
Gregg stepped into the office and looked from the window. He saw a rather short, overweight man, stood by one of the pumps trying to put fuel into a red, plastic container. And by the way he threw down the fuel pump, he wasn’t succeeding.
‘I’m betting that isn’t Sheldon?’ said Jill.
‘No way, to start with the guys too short, and besides that, he’s soaked. If he was one of them, he certainly wouldn’t be out in this.’
‘Well don’t you think we should get him inside before they see him?’
‘If we do, we’ll have to tell him what’s going on here, I doubt he’ll believe us, but lying to him won’t help anyone’s situation.’
‘Well we can’t just leave him out there, that’s for sure. If that Sheldon is around somewhere, this guy won’t stand a chance.’
‘Okay we tell him, but not about me.’ Gregg insisted on that.
Jill nodded her agreement and Gregg tapped on the glass to get his attention.
The man dropped his container and moved over to the window, but had to shout in order to be heard over the noise of the wind. ‘Morning, I need to buy some gas from you, but the pump seems to be out.’ After he removed his glasses he proceeded to wipe his face with a handkerchief.
Jill slid the serving windowpane sideways, and even though the glass wasn’t thick enough to keep out much noise, she now had to shout over the wind. ‘Where are you from, mister?’
‘I’m from New York, I was on my way down to Cleveland for a convention, but I lost my bearings. And now my van’s outta gas, it’s about half a mile from here,’he said, pointing not really anywhere.
‘Go to the shutter,’ Gregg shouted. ‘I’ll see if we can open it.’
Putting his glasses back on, the new arrival walked from the window to the roller shutter. On the inside, just above an old oil drum, Gregg saw three circular buttons. The outside two were green, with a red one sat in the middle of them, and next to those was a grey junction box for the electrics, which he threw to the on position. Each of the green buttons displayed a small arrow, one up, one down. The red button displayed the word “Stop”. Gregg pushed the up arrow and the door began to rise, grating as it went and losing even more flakes of green paint.
When a small gap appeared at the bottom, the driving crosswind blew sheets of rain underneath, causing Gregg to move to one side. And when the gap reached about four and a half feet, he hit the red button.
Bending at the waist, as much as his bulk would allow, the man shuffled sideways entering the garage. Gregg hit the second green button and the shutter began to descend.
‘What is with this weather?’ said the man, throwing down his arms in a bid to shake off the excess water. ‘Oh sorry, the name’s Demby, Nicholas Demby,’ he said, pulling a rain-soaked business card from his inside pocket.
Nicholas Demby
Pyrotechnics Engineer
Flash Bang Wallop Display Fireworks
Tel: 555 FLASH
Using his forefingers like wiper-blades, Nicholas Demby wiped both the outside and inside of his lenses to rid them of all condensation. And now, being able to see that little bit clearer, he looked Jill and Gregg up and down and smiled. ‘Guess you two are dodging the posse huh?’ he said, snorting a laugh. ‘What did ya do, rob a bank?’ he laughed heartily at that little gem.
But neither Gregg nor Jill acknowledged his remarks, although, Gregg did remove his hat.
‘Hum … yes, friends call me Nick,’ he said, holding out a hand.
With no definable distance between his head and shoulders, Nick stood no taller than five-feet-two. He looked to be about 200 lb in weight, and wore a black jacket and trousers, black shoes, and a white button-down shirt with a maroon coloured tie. A silver triangle with an eye inside it was inlaid into the tie, and he wore square, black-rimmed glasses, and had short black hair, not styled with any purpose, he also walked with a very slight limp.
Gregg shook Nick’s hand but didn’t bother to remove his glove. ‘Hi, I’m Gregg, and this is Jill.’
Nick gave a short smile to Jill. ‘So, can you sell me some gas now?’ he asked her.
Gregg spoke to him first. ‘So what’s the convention for, Nick?’
Nick narrowed his eyes and looked over both shoulders, as if checking for eaves-droppers, then answered in a whisper. ‘It’s the Conspiracy III National Science Fiction Convention. This convention is thee gathering for all fans of science fiction. The guest speaker is sci-fi writer, Derrick Flint, he’s my favourite. There’s comics author and artist, Diane Pollock, and fantasy writer, Isambard Carmichael. It’s gonna be the best one ever!’ he said, his voice reaching a crescendo.
‘Wow,’ said Gregg. ‘That sounds … fantastic!’
‘I knowww, and that’s why I don’t want to miss it. That, and the fact I’m supplying the fireworks for the final night in two days time. I kinda need to be there, ya know? So, how about that gas then, huh?’
‘Thing is, Nick,’ said Jill. ‘This isn’t our place, we’re just sheltering here.’
Nick looked askance of them. ‘And there’s no one else around, no one who can get the pumps working?’
‘No, not anyone you’d want to meet anyway.’ Jill replied.
‘Why, they got two heads or something?’ he said, snorting another laugh.
Gregg and Jill stayed flat-faced.
‘What?’ he said, looking from Gregg to Jill. ‘What?’
‘What if I told you,’ said Gregg. ‘That they did have two heads … what then?’
Nick frowned. ‘I’d say you were pulling my pisser on account of what I just told you regarding the convention.’
Gregg folded his arms. ‘Well, what if I said the whole town had been injected with some kind of virus, and that virus has turned them all in to blood-thirsty vampires, and we were being chased by them. What would you say to that?’
Nick shook his head. ‘Look, pal. All I want is some gas. Just sell me the gas, take my money, and I’m gone. There’s no need to take the piss outta me, ya know?’
Jill got his attention. ‘Nick, Gregg isn’t taking the piss out of you, what he’s saying is the truth. I know. I was taken prisoner by them. Gregg’s a private investigator; he’s here trying to locate a girl who went missing over a week ago. There are six other young girls swinging from meat-hooks in a room just across the street. My best friend is in the police station next to that. She has a fucking cattle-prod sticking out from her chest.’ Jill bent and looked Nick straight in the eye. ‘I’m afraid you ran out of gas near the wrong town, my friend.’
Again Nick’s gaze switched between them. ‘Is this straight up? No bullshit?’ he asked.
Jill and Gregg shook their heads. ‘No Bullshit,’ they said.
‘I fuckin’ knew it, I always said they existed. Harry Sherman would never believe me when I said they were real, he’ll have to eat his fuckin’ words now though, right? I bet they’re as common as Aliens. Oh, I’ve never seen a real Alien, but I know they’re here alright,’ he said, moving his gaze aloft. ‘And I bet there’s Werewolves out there somewhere too.’
Gregg thought Nick was beginning to get a little carried away with himself. ‘So, you believe us then?’
Nick halted his euphoria looking a little unsure. ‘If it’s true I do, but if it’s not …’
Gregg nodded. ‘Oh it’s true alright.’
‘Ho-lee shit ... just wait till the convention guys get a load of this. I gotta go back to my van. I gotta get my camera, I gotta get some pictures, I gotta … hey, those conventioneers are gonna be hovering over me like flies round shit,’ he said, before turning and pushing the up button.
Gregg doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone as overexcited as this man standing before him now.
Jill reached out and hit the stop button. ‘You can’t do that, Nick. If they see you, you’re dead. We’re all dead,’ she said, hitting the down button.
Nick turned to face Gregg. ‘But it’s daylight, they only come out at night, right?’
Jill tugged on Nick’s damp jacket-front, spinning him back to face her. ‘This isn’t fright-night at the local drive-in, Nick. Daylight doesn’t affect them.’
‘Wow, a super-race of vampires, this thing’s getting better by the minute. I guess they worked out the kinks, huh?’
‘Some of them,’ said Gregg. He wanted to move on from this. ‘Say, Nick, do you have a cell phone I could use?’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘No, why would I be kid-’
‘Because, if I did have a cell phone,’ he said, again looking over his shoulders, ‘they’d be able to trace me anywhere I was.’
Gregg and Jill looked at one another. ‘Who would, Nick?’ asked Jill.
Nick pointed skyward, and mimed. “THEM!”
‘Them! Who are them?’ asked Gregg.
‘Shush, they have eyes and ears everywhere,’ he said, giving the garage a conspiratorial once-over
‘Who do?’ whispered Gregg in return.
Again he pointed, and again he mimed. “THEM!”
Gregg nodded, whispering once more. ‘Oh right, THEM!’ he said, then narrowed his eyes looking at Jill. One more nut for the fucking funny farm, then?
‘So, when do I get to see one?’ Nick asked, putting on his best puppy-face. ‘Ya gotta let me see one, please.’
‘We’ve ascertained so far that they’re all in the town hall,’ said Gregg. ‘And the further you stay away from there, the safer you’ll be.’
‘So ya mean I don’t get to see one?’
‘That’s right, Nick. With any luck, you won’t get to see one, and therefore, neither will we.’
He turned to Jill. ‘Well, why the town hall?’
‘That’s where they gather during a storm.’ Jill looked at Gregg for two seconds and then back to Nick. ‘We’ve discovered water burns them, we’ve no idea why, but it does, so they tend to stay indoors when it rains. But we think there might still be another one of them out here somewhere.’
‘You mean Holy water burns them, right?’
‘No, Nick,’ said Jill, ‘just plain old water.’
‘Not such a super-race of vampires now eh, Nick?’ said Gregg.
‘No I guess not. Well what about the one you think is still out here? ‘Let’s go kill it; then I can get my camera.’
‘No, Nick, we’re not here to hunt them down,’ said Gregg. ‘If we come across one of them, we’ll deal with it. But they still have two, maybe three young girls held captive. And I need to get to them first.’ Gregg turned away walking around the back of the oil truck.
Nick turned to Jill. ‘So you’re just gonna let a shit-load of vampires roam the country-side, killing people? We’re not even gonna try to stop them?’
‘Nick, there are over one hundred of them up there. Even if we wanted to we couldn’t get all of them.’
Gregg walked back from behind the oil truck dragging a heavy fan-heater across the concrete floor. He plugged it into the wall and Nick moved in front rubbing his hands together.
Jill noticed Gregg cringed a little. ‘Let’s take another look at that shoulder, Gregg,’ she said.
‘Actually,’ he said, wind milling his arm. ‘It feels just fine.’
‘Let me see,’ she insisted.
Nick stood watching as Gregg removed his jacket, and on seeing the blood on the sleeve of his T-shirt, he walked over. ‘What happened there?’
‘One of them took a shot at me in the school across the road.’
As Jill lifted the bloody sleeve, Nick moved nearer in order to see the wound, but before he got close enough, she dropped it again. ‘It looks fine,’ she told Gregg, trying to sound casual. ‘Just keep your jacket on to keep out the dirt.’ She hoped her disinterested tone got the message across.
‘See,’ he said, pushing his hand up his arm to feel the wound. ‘Told you it’ and that’s when the message actually got across.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked Nick, trying to look over Jill’s shoulder.
Jill had manoeuvred herself between Nick and Gregg while he put his jacket on. ‘No, Nick,’ she said, staring him down.
Nick had known them for what? Ten minutes? And already he felt like an outsider, they were keeping something from him, he was sure of it. Gregg was keeping more than just his arm up that sleeve.
