Blood Crusade Page 6

  “Nola, hi. I was just packing. I’m flying to Vegas Monday night…”

  Some would think he would be actually flying, but vamps are more like turkeys, they can fly a little but not too much. They’re much better at hovering. Most likely he’d be taking Camelot Farms private jet.

  “Lance, I don’t have time to chit chat, my cell phone battery is low. I have a quick question and need a quick answer. Where’s the main vampire lair?”

  “No way, Nola. Too dangerous.”

  “This is an emergency. There’s no time to explain. Trust me, tell me where they live,” I realized the irony of the words the second they left my mouth, vampires don’t actually live, they are the walking undead, kept conscious by a virus that takes advantage of their bodies.

  “They have a mansion somewhere in the Scotch 80’s but I’ve never been there. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  “Oh, I’m losing you. Sorry--got to go. Talk to you when I see you,” I said, ending the connection and knowing where to search now.

  The Scotch 80’s is an old, chic community of custom-built houses. Most of them are on half acre lots, huge compared to Vegas standards where most yards can’t squeeze in more than a swimming pool and patio set. The community was founded by Peter Buol who arrived by stagecoach in 1911 and became the first mayor of Las Vegas. It should come as no surprise that he was a gambler who first became wealthy by winning a $100,000 lottery. He quickly blew that fortune, a pattern of most gamblers, and set out to build another.

  He exploited the artesian pools that fed Las Vegas creek and convinced Sir John Murray, from Scotland, to invest in and develop an 80 acre parcel of land, hence the name, Scotch 80’s. Murray, who liked to brag that his hobby of “drinking beer” inspired him, died in 1939 before Las Vegas hit the boom times. Most of the estates in the upscale neighborhood were built in the 1950’s and are considered vintage today.

  I held my nose up to the air, there was a slight summer breeze. The wind was carrying a variety of odors. The professor could be tracked if I could catch his scent. I’d have to transform into my werewolf form to use the full strength of my olfactory and hearing senses.

  The Camelot scientists believe that the werewolf virus can be traced back to the Canidae biological family of wolves, coyotes, foxes, and jackals, giving us the same senses and strengths. They believe the virus evolved after living off the prehistoric, now extinct, Dire wolf that could kill a saber tooth tiger in a fight because of the fierce, crushing power of their jaws and their long, sharp fangs.

  Nobody knows why the canine family diverged four million years ago, with the dog eventually choosing to walk with mankind instead of devouring us, but I’m glad they choose the path of friendship. Wolves, on the other hand, have understandably remained wary of humans. They are feared and that creates a dangerous position for any animal. People will kill any animal for sport but an animal that causes fear is doomed above all others. They have been nearly wiped from existence by hunters and there are still morons today, in Alaska, who shoot them from helicopters.

  My acute sense of smell came from the canine gene the virus gave me. The dog, loyal and courageous friend to humans, has a sense of smell thousands of times superior to people. And they use that sense to help humanity. Dogs help search for survivors after a calamity, aid the blind, and find the missing. They can sniff out explosives or drugs and there’s evidence that their amazing sense of smell helps them detect cancer in humans. It’s a shame that more people don’t realize the superpowers our fellow creatures possess. Perhaps they would then appreciate them as I did.

  “Focus, damn it,” I said out loud, walking into the water detention area. I could get to the Scotch 80’s by traveling the tunnels.

  The concrete drainage channel was twelve feet wide and eight feet high, built to contain and direct the flash floods that ironically occur in the desert. Las Vegas is located in a basin and the water runs off the picturesque mountains when the snow begins to melt off the peaks. Combine that with the occasional rains and you get a situation where people have drowned when the water rushes through the detention basins. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if people hadn’t destroyed the two thousand acres of wetlands that once absorbed the runoff, but human stupidity knows no bounds.

  Anyway, Lance once told me that the true purpose of the 350 miles of storm tunnels that run beneath the city is to provide a safe place for the vampires to wait for sunset should they party too much and find themselves caught in the dawn.

  The channel was mostly dry now although holes in the pavement contained puddles for mosquitoes to breed in, another Las Vegas irony. Litter was everywhere, displaying man’s contempt for the environment--plastic bags, empty soda cans, broken glass from whiskey bottles, Styrofoam cups, shopping carts, tires, and one gym shoe making me wonder what happened to the other shoe and the owner. The channel led to a foreboding tunnel where no danger signs were posted and only the naïve or desperate would cross the threshold.

  Chapter 6: Tunnel of the Lost

  I entered a world that was vastly different from the brightly lit city above. This sinister world was gloomy and murky. My pupils adjusted to the blackness, which held a visibility of about six feet. The smell of urine was overpowering. Graffiti decorated the moldy walls of this dank, man-made cavern. ABANDON ALL HOPE, FUCK LAS VEGAS, and THE SOUNDS OF SILENCE were all visible in various spray-paint colors. Artistic renditions of skulls, balls and penis, and a face with mouth open wide in a scream, similar to the work of Edvard Munch.

  Spiders seemed to thrive down here; there were cobwebs everywhere, no doubt catching many of the huge cockroaches that also appreciated this habitat. I walked faster. This tunnel led into the next open detention area where my personal bad luck in Vegas could change if I could catch a scent of the professor.

  My silver dagger would be better used out of my purse. It was slipped under my belt, behind my back, where it could be quickly grabbed if needed. The silver dagger had been a present from Lance. He’d handed it to me, in its sheath so he wouldn’t be burned, on my 30th birthday. “Don’t be afraid to use it,” he said. “One quick stab to the heart will kill any vampire.” It wasn’t exactly the romantic gift I’d hoped for but still, it was a present from Lance. Many brutal killers have been dispatched with that dagger since holding silver doesn’t harm a werewolf, only getting shot with a silver bullet kills the beast.

  A glow appeared in the distance, drawing me like a kid to a lightning bug. The darkness carried sounds of a child’s laughter. Jesus Christ, it was a family, huddled around a camping lantern. Their dog sensed my approach, looking into the darkness where I walked, his fur raised and his tail down, he growled.

  They couldn’t yet see me but they presented a clear picture of a family that had literally hit rock bottom. The child, a little girl about six or seven years old, was on a large piece of cardboard which rested on plywood pallets. She was nestled in a sleeping bag adorned with depictions of castles, unicorns, and princesses. Someone had carved a castle from a large cardboard box and placed it against the tunnel wall, where it sagged and seemed about to fall from the battle against the dampness.

  A loud sigh left my lips. Damn, I had such high hopes for the 21st century. While others were lamenting the end of the world during the turn of the century, I pictured a civilization finally old enough to grow up. Technology would give people a better life. We would see that war is not the path to follow. We would feed the hungry and house the homeless. We would go beyond human rights and finally recognize that we are stewards of earth, responsible for all the world’s creatures. After so many centuries of injustice we would finally become enlightened and start a new age. Boy was I ever wrong.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked the family, approaching them slowly. The answer was already known, of course, they were homeless and living in squalor underneath a grand city where great wealth was deposited daily in slot machines.

  The father, a young man in his twenties, wearin
g a hoodie and jeans, replied, “I could ask you the same thing.”

  The dog, a German Shepherd, wasn’t sure if he should attack. He looked at the father and then to me, barking and growling. “I’m taking a shortcut,” I said. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

  “Quiet, Barney,” the mother of the family commanded the dog. “We’re just camping out here until we get jobs,” she explained. She sat next to her daughter and put a protective arm around the child. The little girl buried her head into the woman’s neon green sweatshirt. “Mommie, I’m scared.” Her fearful eyes reminded me of my daughter’s look when she had been carried off by the beast.

  “It’s alright princess. She’s a good witch on her way to the next kingdom to fight the trolls. She won’t hurt us,” the father said, trying to keep the fantasy alive for his child.

  He looked at me with weary blue eyes. “We lost our jobs in the casino. We never thought that we were just a few paychecks away from foreclosure. Our home wasn’t our castle, it was repossessed. The sheriff threw all of our belongings out in the street. We lost everything…everything,” he said quietly. He seemed to still be in shock over their plight and loss.

  “Can’t you stay at a shelter?” I inquired.

  “Are you kidding?” he replied. “Have you seen the lines of people waiting to get into a shelter? And they won’t let families stay together. And they won’t take pets. And they’ll probably take Princess away from us because we can’t afford a place to live. We refuse to be separated.”

  “It’s happening to a lot of people,” the mother said. “We still have each other. We look for jobs during the day, we go to agencies and look for help but we don’t have an address or phone so we’re not getting anywhere. But we’ll think of something, won’t we, David?” She looked earnestly at her husband.

  “You know we will, baby. This is only temporary. Our luck will change.”

  Perhaps the best thing would be to wish them good luck and continue on my mission to save the professor. My problem is that the best thing is never my choice and I felt a sudden need to get the family out of this hell-hole. Maybe a small bond could be established with them and they would take my advice and some money and get out of Vegas. “You wouldn’t be Irish by any chance? My husband, Sean, used to talk about the luck of the Irish. He wondered why it was never mentioned that it was always bad luck,” I laughed.

  “I’m always Irish on Saint Patrick’s Day,” the father chuckled. “That’s one of our favorite holidays.”

  Mine too. Sean and I met at a Saint Patrick’s Day party on campus. The holiday held special meaning for me but before that could be declared I sensed the danger behind us and Barney did too. I quickly reached behind my back and pulled out my silver dagger. The couple’s growing acceptance of my presence in the tunnel turned to pure panic.

  “She’s got a knife!” the woman screamed.

  The dog barked furiously, warning of the peril, but he wasn’t barking at me. The woman screamed even louder when she finally saw the true source of the dog’s battle howls. “Mommie! I’m scared!” the child screeched. The father just stood there, his mouth wide open with fear, reminding me of the graffiti depiction of the silent scream I’d seen earlier in the tunnel.

  There were three of them on the ceiling, crawling upside down, heads bent at a downward angle, glowing eyes peering in our direction. They were swinging their heads from side to side like sharks nearing a feeding frenzy. It was, without a doubt, the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen vampires do.

  Their fanglike teeth are similar to tiger sharks, thin and razor sharp, giving them the power to catch and hold their meal. Vampires, like sharks, have teeth of several rows, one after another. Unlike sharks however, vampires only show one set of teeth until they are ready to feed and their fangs pop out of their gums. If they lose a tooth on a meal, a new one will move forward from the next row.

  A scientist at Camelot hypothesized that the vampire virus was born more than 350 million years ago, before the dinosaurs, when Megalodon, thought to be the ancestor of the Great White shark, ruled the oceans. How the virus evolved and passed from ocean creatures to settle on humans as the perfect host is unknown but the vamps still possess the same ability as the shark to smell blood more than a mile away.

  Drool poured from the fangs of the first bloodsucker in line as his jaws moved widely apart to allow victims to appreciate the glory of his great white killing spikes. He leisurely dropped from the ceiling and crouched on his knees, slowly rising to stand in front of me. He had an evil grin; he enjoyed seeing horror reflected in the eyes of his victims, a trait of the roving vampire gangs. They loved the flavor of fear.

  However, I wasn’t afraid. He seemed surprised. That one second of his doubt was all the time needed to plunge the silver dagger deep into his heart. One down, two to go. The other two reacted quickly--one dropped down behind me and grabbed my arms. The other quickly had his fangs embedded in my neck. “Die, you bitch!” the one holding my arms yelled.

  Barney jumped on him, snarling. The vamp let go of my arms to turn on the dog, allowing me to plunge my fingers into the biting vamps eyes. He quickly released his fangs. I swiftly turned and plunged the dagger into the neck of the monster about to kill Barney. Vampire blood spurted everywhere. The humans screamed furiously. Turning werewolf would finish these bastards off quickly but add to the family’s terror. Human form would have to do.

  I drop-kicked the last vampire standing--my years of martial arts training at Camelot always paid off. The vamps’ arrogance always did them in--they were so sure of their power that most of them never trained. He looked at me with pure hatred. A vampire screech is excruciating to the ears and he let out an unholy noise that bounced off the cavern walls and made my cochlea painfully vibrate. I smashed my fist into his mouth to make him shut the hell up. My ears were still ringing.

  Barney sunk his canine fangs into the vamp’s leg. The vamp flew to the ceiling with Barney still holding on. I jumped up and stabbed him in the heart, catching Barney on my way down. The moaning of the bloodsucker that had been stabbed in the neck caught my attention. He was in much worse shape than I was, my dagger had done more damage to his neck than his friend’s fangs had done to mine, only a trickle of blood rolled down my chest.

  “Your easy prey wasn’t so easy tonight, was it, you asshole?” I approached him to apply a fatal stab to the heart. There is no mercy for vampires that prey on the weak and helpless. They deserve only the utterance of the Code of Camelot. “I vow with all my heart and soul to protect and defend the weak and innocent. Justice and liberty are my crusade. I will seek the light and banish darkness. I will defend humanity with courage, valor, truth and loyalty. I will punish the enemies of righteousness. In the name of morality, I sentence you to death for crimes against humanity.”

  He lay slumped against the dirty wall, his hand pressed against his neck as he tried to stop the spurting blood. “Who the fuck are you?” he moaned.

  “Simply the end of you--the last face you will ever see,” I explained, finishing him off with a quick stab to his evil heart. Barney wagged his tail. “Good dog,” I said, petting my new friend and checking on his status by sniffing his mouth to be certain he hadn’t swallowed any vampire blood. It was the only way to get infected. If he had ingested any blood he could turn and a vampire dog can be a real discipline problem.

  Werewolf infection is so much easier to inflict. If one survives being bitten, or even scratched by a werewolf, they are doomed with the werewolf virus. My wounds had been severe, inflicted in a fight to save my daughter from the beast. I became the creature I hated and worked hard to maintain my best human traits. I don’t murder and feast on people as some vampires and werewolves tend to do. In fact, I’m a vegetarian—it’s a comfort to me. The blood hunger only comes during the full moon and I have, after years of working with The Master, gotten that under control.

  No vampire blood was down the dog’s throat, he was fine. However, his family was in shoc
k. They stared at the smoldering corpses of the now disappearing vampires--only black ash would be left behind. “This can’t be happening. Dear God, wake me from this nightmare,” the woman moaned, tightly clutching her child. Damn, what would she be doing if I’d needed to turn werewolf to battle those idiot vampires? I’d probably be scrapping her off the moldy ceiling.

  I bowed to the child. “Your enemies have been vanquished, my lady. You are now free to travel to your new kingdom.”

  The father played along. “We have a long journey ahead of us, Princess. We should go.”

  The woman snapped to her senses and gathered their meager belongings. “Yes…I want to leave.”

  The child looked down at me. I kept my best knight’s posture; leg on the ground, hand held to my heart, head bowed. “Thank you, you are a good and kind witch. Please come with us to the new kingdom,” she sweetly said.

  The father nodded. “Yes, by all means, please come with us.”

  “My journey lies ahead, I can’t go with you, but please, take this gift,” I said, pulling the wad of winnings out of my purse. I leaned in to the father and whispered, “Get out of Vegas, there are too many vampires here. Use half of this to get a clunker that will take you to a small town. You should be able to rent a house and get back on your feet with the rest.”

  He began to cry. “How can we ever thank you? If you hadn’t come along…”

  “Go now.” I patted him on the back and turned to continue my journey. “Goodbye Princess,” I waved. “Oh, and remember, silver kills vampires and so does sunlight. Start drinking colloidal silver.” They were already out of sight, only the blackness of the tunnel filled my eyes. I hoped they’d heard my words of warning.

  Chapter 7: Worse than a Baby Killer

  The crushing feeling of claustrophobia dissipated as I reached the open detention area. The bright lights of the casinos in the distance called to me. Nope, no time to relax playing slots, I shook my head and focused on the professor. My clothing had to be removed, so it would not be torn, and I could turn into my animal self and use the full power of my senses to establish where he was hidden.