Torment Page 7

  The idiot with the pistol was shooting as fast as he could pull the trigger. Basil felt nothing, but the sound was offensive. It rang in and out of his hypersensitive ears. To alleviate this, Basil swung the body like a club, knocking the shooter back a good twenty feet to slam painfully into the house. The weapon bounced away.

  Dropping the gory torso carelessly, he advanced on the unconscious or dead young man resting awkwardly on the front porch. Bloodlust consumed his every thought. An animalistic need burning inside to dominate and consume. Instinct overrode common sense.

  This momentary loss of control allowed the remaining woman to slip past Basil. She sprinted away into the marshy forest surrounding the house. He grunted, frustrated at his lack of attention. The game was fun, but he wanted no loose ends. Avoiding discovery was paramount.

  However, Basil could smell the blood leaking from the attacker he’d bashed. The urge to feast was too strong to deny. He stormed towards the dying man, lifting his body easily. One deep bite freed the delicious liquid quickly into Basil’s hungry mouth. He gulped it down as rapidly as it was given. The shooter’s body began to wither, skin greying and pulling tight against the bones. His eyes bulged out, the teeth in his mouth pulled back in a grimace, creating an almost comical appearance; some low rent funhouse mummy unwrapped.

  Basil roared in triumph and ecstasy. His belly was round, full of sustenance. It’d been years since he felt this wonderful! Life itself ran through him, galloping through his dead veins like a derby horse. Maybe he would make the switch back to humans.

  Time for the last. His nostrils flared, easily picking up the woman’s scent of sweat, enhanced by terror. Less than two miles away. Draining the fool with the gun had taken longer than he’d thought. The sun was still far enough off, which was a blessing.

  Another item in his favor were options. Yes, there was a certain appeal to the chase. There was a lot to clean up here, though. Basil clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he rejected potential plans. No, there was only one option.

  He bent, digging in the pockets of his victims. After a time he came up with his desired item. Carefully using one clawed finger, Basil tapped out a number on a cellular phone. It rang several times before a man picked up on the other end.

  “Remember the favor you owe me?” Basil rasped. “Time to call in my marker, dear boy.”

  ******

  Kate Marsted’s lungs were on fire. Her legs felt like lead. Never before had she run so hard, not even during the track meets that earned her a college scholarship. This was supposed to have gone smoothly, no hitches.

  They’d grossly underestimated the creature. Even after studying hours of video footage collected via drone, the team hadn’t accounted for the sheer brutality the…well, vampire, exhibited. Good God, the bastard had torn two of them apart like they were paper dolls.

  Gary, the team’s leader, had stumbled across the vampire while researching deer populations in the area. During a drone sweep, while he was counting a particularly large herd, he’d witnessed the grotesque figure sprint right through the middle of the animals, wrestle a deep chested eight point buck to the ground, and feed.

  Immediately their minds moved into action. Keeping the discovery to themselves, the young people began to speculate the potential for science to finally prove a mythical creature as fact. Not to mention there were possible medical benefits to be had from the monster’s blood. They would be famous. More importantly, they would be wealthy.

  Now, after witnessing the wholesale slaughter of three people, Kate wanted nothing more than to be studying the migratory patterns of swampland birds. This was too big a job for a handful of college kids, even if Gary was in the Army Reserve. Fuck, none of them had even considered if the guns and wooden stakes would even damage the creature. What had they been thinking?

  The traffic sounds from the adjoining country road were music to her ears. She pushed herself to go harder, overjoyed at the thought of getting away. Kate burst from the flattened underbrush that marked the beginning of the old manor house’s driveway, panting like a dog in the middle of summer.

  To her delighted surprise, a county police car rolled to a stop moments later. Behind the wheel sat Sheriff Moorland. He immediately got out. “What’s going on here? You know you’re not supposed to be out here, right?”

  “Yes…” Kate struggled to catch a breath, bent over with exertion and trembling with the dregs of adrenaline. “Please….help….he…killed…”

  “Who killed what?” Moorland asked sharply. His hand dropped the butt of his gun. “Take it easy, now, you’re safe.”

  “No…we…need…to…go…now…”

  “All right,” Moorland helped her over to his cruiser. “Let’s get into the car. We can talk at the station, okay?”

  Kate nodded gratefully, allowing the officer to load her into the back seat. She flopped over, allowing exhaustion to overtake her. The big engine started and the car pulled away from the gravelly shoulder.

  They were halfway down the lane before Kate realized they weren’t heading towards town.

  “Hey!” She exclaimed, trying to sit up.

  “Shut up,” Moorland growled. “Jesus Christ, what a mess you made.”

  The patrol car sped recklessly down the dirt road, kicking up dust. Kate jostled around at every bump, struggling to not slam her head into the ceiling or doors. She clawed at the handle-less exits, cold fear kicking the vibrant hope at survival she’d felt moments ago out on its ass.

  Skidding to a stop just behind Gary’s disabled van, Moorland beeped the horn twice and waited, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Sweat was running down his face. He chewed ceaselessly at his lower lip.

  Basil appeared to the Sheriff’s left. His sudden emergence from the high grass made Moorland jump. The vampire grinned at his fright, indicating that the officer should roll his window down with a twirling hand gesture.

  Moorland cracked the window. “I brought her, just like you asked. We’re even, right?”

  “Yes, yes,” Basil smiled. “I cleaned up the…what did you call them? Hippies? Yes, hippies that were brewing drugs in this old house, now you return a lamb to me. I consider the debt paid.”

  “Good!” Moorland exclaimed, voice girlishly high in his fright. “I’ll open the back door and you grab her, okay?”

  “Very okay,” Basil said. “Oh, and I regret to inform you I’ll be leaving soon. I thank you for your hospitality. You’ve been more than kind.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Kate heard the locks disengage to her left and right. She tried to push them open, wanting to at least make an attempt at escape. Nothing happened until Basil opened the door and yanked her out into the night screaming.

  He held her up by one ankle, waving a good-bye to the Sheriff. Moorland gave a curt salute, reversing so fast the cruiser almost went into the tall vegetation bracketing the rough driveway. The vampire howled laughter.

  “Now my little one,” Basil whispered, lifting Kate so that her femoral artery was at his lips. “One last snack before bedtime.”

  Pigment

  “A sleep study is just what you need,” Dr. Bell told the exhausted looking young man sitting on his exam table. “I think it will be the best way to tell us why you’re not sleeping well.

  “Are you sure?” Eric asked. His eyelids felt so heavy that it was a struggle to keep them open. “That’s what you said about the blood work, urine screening, and the oxygen measurement device, which cost me an arm and a leg!”

  “It’s the next logical step. Nothing has showed up on the other tests. The O2 meter showed a slight decrease in oxygen, but nothing too terrible. The sleeping pills I prescribed obviously aren’t working. It’s the only thing we haven’t tried.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just really tired and really fed up with being poked.”

  Dr. Bell patted Eric on the shoulder. “This should show us what’s going on when you’re actually getting to sleep. I wanted to get a study do
ne in the first place, but the insurance company made us jump through other hoops before they’d approve it.”

  Eric nodded, resigned to the procedure. Judging from the pictures he’d found on Google of what exactly the process was, it wasn’t going to be fun. However, if it could reveal why he’d quit recharging while sleeping, then the whole mess would be worth it.

  He made the proper arrangements with the front desk, scheduling the sleep study for the following night. That done, he slowly walked to the bus stop. The five minute stroll felt like miles. His muscles wobbled with fatigue.

  The illness had nearly pushed Eric to his breaking point. Nearly a month had gone by since he’d began waking up each morning feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. It wasn’t really an issue of going to bed and staying asleep. That all happened just fine. Actually feeling restored was the problem. Every aspect of his life was slowly going to ruin. If the study didn’t reveal the source, Eric was probably going to end up being admitted to the hospital.

  While waiting for the bus, despite being alone at the stop, he felt anxiety overtake him. Eric felt like he was going to be mugged any second. His eyes darted about, trying to find the source of his paranoia. He shook uncontrollably as adrenaline dumped into his system.

  The bus squeaked to a stop. Eric quickly rushed onboard and found an empty seat. His uneasiness lingered, though the intensity was significantly dialed down. He stared out the window at the passing city, blinking sleepily as the rumbling warmth of the large vehicle made him nod off.

  A deep pothole jolted him awake. He opened his eyes to a smooth faced, slit mouthed man in a black Australian campaign hat. Tiny nostrils sat under a skinny, triangular nose. The fellow had irises so light a shade of blue that they nearly blended into the sclera.

  Eric screamed out loud, recoiling from his window and nearly tumbling into the isle. A quick supporting hand from the passenger sitting opposite prevented it.

  “Whoa! You okay?” Called the driver.

  “Yeah!” Eric said too loudly. He looked at the fellow rider who’d prevented a potential injury; a sturdy Latino man in a leather Cubs jacket and matching hat. “Thanks for your help. Saved me from a nasty bump.”

  “No problem. You sure you’re all right?” The Cubs fan asked. His friendly face showed clear concern. “You need a doctor?”

  “I’m okay,” Eric tried to smile. “I fell asleep and had a nightmare or something. I feel like a dummy, but that’s all it was, honest.”

  The Hispanic man looked doubtful. “I really don’t think that’s all it was, but I won’t bug you about it. There’s a good clinic at the next stop. I’m an accountant there. I know, I know, you don’t need a doc, but….”

  He withdrew a business card with Hector Cortez, CPA printed neatly on it. “If you change your mind, call me. I’ll get you in quick.”

  Touched almost to the point of tears, Eric took the card. “Thank you, Mr. Cortez. I’ll come in if I need to. I just want to get home and try to sleep at the moment.”

  Still looking concerned, Hector shook his head. “Fine. At least you know where we are.”

  The bus came to a stop. Eric shook Hector’s hand. “Thank you again.”

  Fondly, he watched the kindhearted fellow exit the bus, joining the throng on the sidewalk. A small line was waiting to board. At the end of the queue, a tall figure stood, hunched into a billowing black overcoat. Curly white hair billowed from under his matching hat. The man’s face was pointed down, additionally obscured by the upturned collar of his coat.

  An internal steel wire clenched around Eric’s guts. The man raised his face slightly, exposing it just enough to show those unsettling eyes. One hand raised in a wave.

  “Oh no,” Eric whispered. “Please don’t let him on. Please, please, please!”

  In a blink, the strange man vanished. Eric gawped in surprise. He couldn’t believe that the being was gone. In a way, it was more unsettling than actually seeing him. Hallucinating provided further evidence that his condition was driving him steadily towards insanity.

  The remainder of his ride was thankfully uneventful. Eric trudged home from the stop, now too tired to think even muddled thoughts. He didn’t even bother getting his mail from the box in the lobby. All he wanted to do was crash. Eric’s limbs felt heavy. His vision was blurry. Just punching the elevator button to go up became a chore. It took an eternity for the car to arrive.

  Finally, the doors slid open. He stumbled into it like a zombie, studying the toes of his sneakers once inside. There was vague awareness of another passenger, but he dismissed it. Lots of people lived in the building. Eric punched his floor and leaned against the wall.

  “Tired?” A dragging, rusty voice rasped. “Poor Eric.”

  He spun, coming face to face with the strange man. The being was grinning, or at least Eric thought he was grinning. Small, flat teeth were exposed and its lipless mouth was stretched wide. An odd smell of wet cardboard wafted off the humanoid.

  “I’m here for you,” the pale man whispered. “I’ve come just for my Eric.”

  His hands came up slowly. Eric screamed, flinging himself away from the stranger. He slammed painfully into the opposite side of the car. Rapidly, he pushed the “open door” button. The control panel blatted disapprovingly, not obeying the command.

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” the being said disapprovingly. He placed a large, long fingered hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I picked you over everyone else. Feel proud, not afraid.”

  “Picked me for what!!?” Eric nearly shrieked. “Who are you?”

  “Some call me the Tall Man or the Hat Man, though names don’t really matter to me much.” He gave a low chuckle. “As for why I need you, let’s just say that you’re becoming aware of things you shouldn’t.”

  That said, the grip on Eric’s shoulder tightened. The elevator car disappeared, replaced by a humid black room full of tall white haired men and women. Their distorted features were in various states of definition. Small, dark haired people in lab coats moved about the rows of taller beings, large palettes balanced on their forearms. They scraped goop off the boards with a small flat knife, then carefully applied the strange material to the faces of the taller humanoids.

  “Come,” Eric’s personal escort gestured for him to follow. “Try not to look at them. It can be really unpleasant to see them before they’re complete.”

  He tried to obey the suggestion. His eyes kept getting wider and wider each time they passed a column. The features of the beings near the back were much less defined. Noses were missing. Some had no hair or even eyes. The final row resembled artist’s models rather than anything humanoid. Despite their lack of senses, each turned towards Eric as he passed.

  “What are you?” Eric asked in spite of his fear.

  “Neighbors of humankind,” the tall man answered. “We live in the world a few doors down. You could call us observers, trying to figure out what makes humans tick.”

  “Aliens?”

  “To you. To us, you’re the aliens. You make us curious, so we make the occasional foray, either via sleep or physically, as I am able to do. Sometimes you see us, which requires more direct contact.”

  The being stopped before a door. He waved a hand over a panel set in the wall beside it. With a whoosh of displaced air, it slid open. “Inside, please.”

  Eric complied, intensely curious. Another dark room, only there was no one in it, just a large grey box. It was soundless, but he could feel the floor vibrating slightly. A man sized portal popped open, causing him to start.

  “Go ahead, Eric,” the Tall Man encouraged kindly. “Join us. You’ll see things no other human being ever will and you’ll no longer have to worry about sleep.”

  “Okay,” Eric walked forward, only hesitating slightly. “Will this hurt?”

  “Not at all.”

  Confidently, lulled by a lovely sound and soft white light emanating from the open door, Eric stepped in. The panel slammed shut behind him. Both the glow
and musical noise stopped. Total darkness enveloped him.

  Outside, the Tall Man stood with two of the small beings. One held a large bucket, ready under a thick metal pipe jutting from the cube’s side. The box issued a dull thump. Eric yelled out once in pain. There was a thud, followed by a loud grinding sound.

  Pulpy skin toned paste flowed slowly out the spigot. The short being caught it in the container, hurrying it over to the other dwarf once the grating noise stopped. This second creature scooped a ladleful of Eric’s remains out and plopped it onto a white platter.

  The Tall Man removed his cloak and hat, sitting down in a nearby chair. He was shirtless underneath. Pale skin, spotted with large pores, began just below the neckline. Wispy white hair grew in patches in between the fist sized indentations.

  Working with a rounded blade, the small creature began applying the steaming matter onto the Tall Man’s face delicately. It was absorbed almost instantly.

  “Build up my nose a bit,” the Tall Man requested. “If you please.”

  Lancer

  It was a scene out of a low budget horror movie. A ring of six men and women dressed in voluminous black robes stood around a young woman bound to a crude stone altar. The platform was made of three slabs of native rock that stood in a clearing carved out of a towering stand of pines. Six tall, white candles were positioned around the intended sacrifice’s spread eagle body. They dripped hot wax onto one of her manacled ankles from time to time, but the dopey expression on her face showed no pain or discomfort. Six torches provided illumination.

  This particular group liked to do things in sixes. A shared belief was that anything which could be presented in increments of six pleased their perceived master. Each wore six silver rings and had identical walnut handled knives, the stainless steel blades six inches.

  When planning this murder in the name of Satan, the group originally wanted to kidnap a six year old girl for the deed. The plan was aborted before it’d even really begun, due to the attention the police would turn to the abduction of a child. It could eventually expose the entire coven to the law, leading to public crucifixion.