C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination (15 page)

"Not another word you sorry sack of shit!”  Cort said.  “If your daddy knew what a piece of trash you turned into he'd roll over in his grave!  It was
you
that got Donnie killed!  It was you or that bastard kid of yours that sabotaged Jake's guns!  Don't you ever speak about my son or grandson again! You hear me!  You do, I'll cut your worthless throat!"

Buck pulled and pointed a pistol at Cort's head.  Several of the other hunter's did the same.  Jake snatched Cort’s own pistol from the holster on his hip and set his sights squarely on the man he'd trained with for most of his teenage years.

Cat, doing her best to play the mediator, stepped between the two groups.  "Put those damn guns down!  Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed!  We just lost eight people!"

Chris moved up to Jake's side and aimed his rifle at Tank Russell. 

"You siding with them, Chris?"  Buck asked genuine surprise in his eyes.

"You’re damn right I am!  You so much as think about squeezing that trigger, Russell and I’ll blow your brains out."  Chris clicked off the safety on his rifle. 

“That gun is a bit big for you, Junior,” Tank snickered.  “I think I’ll take my chances.  He took two steps toward Cort before Buck stopped him, shaking his head.

“You’ve seen me shoot, Buck,” Chris nodded.  “You know I
always
hit what I’m aiming at.” 

No one moved an inch.  Several other Hunters, all with weapons in hand gathered around watching it all unfold.  Jake wondered to himself whose side they would take if it came to shooting.

Turner struggled beneath Cort's boot, trying in vain to move the old man's leg with both hands.  Cort pushed harder and Turner stopped struggling.

"Get off my dad you son of a bitch!"  Buck screamed, his gun arm shaking.

Cort looked over him and said, "This doesn’t concern you, Buck.  You don’t have to end up like him."

"I said, get off of him, now!" he cocked the hammer back on his revolver.

Jake knew the minute he'd met Buck all those years ago, that he wasn't going to like him.  But over the years he’d learned to tolerate him, even consider him a friend.  However what little friendship they’d had died with Donnie.  Now Jake was going to teach Buck a lesson he would never forget. He took all the fear, all the hate and anguish that had been building up, hate at a world that would put him through losing not one but two parents, hate at the vampire scum that had killed and maimed so many of the people he loved, he took it all and pointed it directly at Buck.  Buck had just made the biggest mistake of his life, and Jake was going to educate him on what solid, unrelenting hate could do.

Chapter 10

Jake

Lonesome Heart, NM

September 11, 2001 3:35am

Jake tossed his gun to Chris as he charged by, his bare feet pounding the hard pavement. All of his training went out the window.  Nothing mattered now, nothing but smashing in the face of the person threatening his last family member on this earth.

Buck's eyes grew large as saucers as Jake swung his right fist making contact with a crunch.  He stumbled back to the ground his gun flying through the air.  Jake landed on top of him, his fist pounding into Buck's face again and again, blood poured from his nose and lips but Jake didn't stop.  He was going to beat Buck to death with his bare hands.  A sharp thud to the back of his head ended the onslaught.  The world started spinning.

Before he knew what happened, he was on his back feeling wet and cold.  The only sound he heard was laughter.  As he started to black out a slap across his face snapped him back.  He came to, staring eye to eye with a very bloody, very angry, very dazed Buck Turner.

Buck rotated his head from side to side then shook it as if trying to clear his vision. His long stringy blond hair, hung down his bloodied face.  His nose was broken and his lips swollen and split from Jake's barrage of punches.  Jake tried to lift his arms to pummel him again but two of Buck's biker buddies had them pinned to the ground under their boots.

One of the men handed Buck a pistol, with a grimace he cocked the hammer back and touched it to Jake's forehead.  “Now it’s
my
turn, Bishop!  You took
everything
from me! 
Everything! 
You will not take my dad from me too!”  He looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Get off my dad, old man!  Or Jake takes one in the head!"

Jake heard a scuffle and some cussing coming from his Grandpa.  "Get off him Buck!" Chris yelled.

Buck's smile grew even wider. "I think I'll have some fun with him first."  He tucked the pistol into his waistband and flipped a butterfly knife out of his back pocket.  He put the razor sharp blade up to Jake's cheek.  “Amber . . . she was mine, Jake!  Mine!”  Jake tried to fight him off but he couldn't move his arms.  Buck nicked his cheek.  "Why?  We were brothers man!" he said, with tears in his eyes. "We were brothers!  You, me, Donnie, and Chris!  You don’t betray your brothers!"

“You mean like you did with Donnie!”  Jake yelled back.  “I know it was you, Buck!”

The blade lowered from  Jake’s cheek.  It’s unclear which of them was more surprised by the large black cowboy boot smashing into Buck's head.  Though it was probably Jake, as Buck never saw it coming and was soon unconscious.  

Jake stared up into the eyes of an old cowboy about his grandpa’s age, holding one of the biggest pistols he had ever seen, which was pointed directly at the two men holding him down. 

"Well, well, well if it isn't Adam Diez and Tank Russell! It must be my lucky day!  I do believe I've got warrants for both of you boys.  Oh and little Turner Junior too!  Now where's big bad Wes at?" he said, glancing around.  He spotted him leaning on a white Ford Taurus, his hand clutching his bruised throat.  "There you are, Bloody Wes!  Looks like you got your ass kicked pretty good," he looked back to the two men holding Jake to the ground. “Now, I want both of you to move away, very slow like and drop your weapons to the ground.  No quick moves you hear?  If I pull this trigger at this range there won't be much left."

Both men immediately removed their feet from Jake's arms and moved away very slowly.  Their guns clacked to the wet pavement.  Both men eyed the big cowboy nervously. Diez spoke up first, "You got no jurisdiction here Anderson!  This isn’t Texas."  

Captain Henry Anderson reached down his left hand and pulled Jake to his feet. "You all right, son?" he said, in a thick Texas accent. 

Jake nodded.  Cat, Chris, and Cort were immediately at his side.   "You okay Jake?" Cort said, looking him over. 

"My head hurts, but I'm okay.” He touched the back of his head and pulled back a bloody hand.  “What the hell happened?  One minute I'm pounding his face into the pavement the next something hit me in the back of the head." 

"That son of a bitch Russell pistol whipped you!" Cort stared at one of Turner's men.  The man kept his hands up but smiled an evil grin at Cort.   

"Keep smiling you son of a bitch." Cort stepped toward him and spit a mouthful of tobacco juice on his shirt.

"Three on one, huh?" Anderson said.  "That's low even for your crew, Turner."

Cat grabbed Jake's head and looked closely at the back of his scalp.  His hair was matted with blood. "It's a bad cut, might need a couple of stitches but you'll be okay.” To Jake’s ears she sounded oddly relieved.  “I'll need to take a look at the one on your cheek too.  I don’t think it will need stitches, but it might scar if we don’t get something on it."

"Your crew ain’t worth a damn Turner!" Cort yelled.  "And for that matter neither is that worthless piece of rat turd son of yours!  There hasn't been a single decent Turner since Tommy died.  He'd be ashamed of what you turned into." 

"Well I guess we know who to blame for that don’t we Cort?” Turner yelled back.  “And now I guess your boy will suffer the same fate!  His wounds don’t look nearly as life threatening as when you first brought him in, do they boys?” 

A general consensus of yeses murmered among
The Slayers. 
“Where’d you get the blood from, Cort?”  Tank asked.

“What fate?  What’s he talking about?”  Jake asked.

“You didn’t tell him?” Turner shook his head.  “You’re not the first guinea pig he’s put vampire blood into, kid.  He did the same thing to me when I was a kid and it didn’t work out so well.”

“Is that true?” Jake asked his grandfather.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Cort said, unable to meet his eyes.

“No we’ll talk about it now!”  Jake yelled grabbing his grandfather forcefully by the collar of his shirt.  “What did you do to me?!”

“Jake,” Cort said sadly, “you were dying.  I had to!”

Jake released his grip, a deep sense of betrayal filling his soul.  “So what’s next?  Will I turn into a monster like Turner?”

Turner rolled his eyes.  “You just won’t give a shit about much of anything anymore.”

Jake stepped away from his grandfather, heading back to his room.

“Hey kid, there’s a spot for you with
The Slayers
whenever you want!”  Diez cackled.  “You’ll fit right in with the rest of us
monsters!”

"Get your boys and get the hell out of here Turner,” Anderson said, not moving the pistol.  “If we were in Texas right now I'd have all of you in handcuffs.  Go now Turner." Anderson motioned with his pistol.  Turner made a gesture with his hand and three of the men holding guns took off at a run toward their rooms.

Jake ignored Diez, stepping into his room, slamming the door behind him.  He stepped over the broken ceiling, and stepped into the bathroom.  Inside was a lime green, mold covered shower.  Jake turned the knobs and stepped in, completely oblivious to the icy cold water.  He rinsed the remaining blood off himself, including the blood matting his hair.  With his teeth he ripped the paper off of an ancient piece of motel soap and scrubbed himself rigorously.  When he was done he climbed out, toweled off with a clean T-shirt and dressed in a pair of jeans and faded blue T-shirt from his duffel on the floor.  He laced up his boots, zipped his bag back up and stepped outside into the brisk night air.

He opened the door to Cort and the others still standing there, almost as if waiting for him to emerge as a different creature altogether.  He managed a weak smile.  “I’m fine.”

“Thanks,” he reached out his hand to Captain Anderson.

"No problem kid,” Anderson nodded slowly shaking his hand.  “It’s the least I can do.  First time I met Wes Turner he and Russell almost put a few rounds of buckshot through my chest.  It was Ben and your dad that stopped them.”

"Jake this is Captain Henry Anderson.” Cat said making introductions

“Captain?" Jake asked with a questioning glance.  “Military?” 

"He's a Texas Ranger," Chris answered.

"Ah," Jake said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Relax, Jake.”  Chris smiled.  “He’s been like an uncle to me since he and dad first met.”  

"Let’s get you inside," Cat pulled Jake back toward their motel room.  "I've got to make sure you’re
really
okay." 

“I’d rather do it out here,” Jake said taking a breath of fresh air.  “It’s such a nice night out and frankly your motel room stinks like rotten ass.”

“Jake, come on,” Cort said.  “That’s a little rude.”

“No,” Cat said arching her eyebrows, “it’s fine, it does stink.  Let me just get my stuff.”

Jake watched from a lawn chair as Turner and his men loaded all of their gear onto the backs of six Harley Davidson’s, then revved their engines to life.  The bodies of their fallen comrades they loaded into the back of an old Dodge van.

Two bikes, belonging to Turner's now dead men, sat unmoving.  Oddly Jake couldn’t have cared less. Turner and his men deserved what they got.

Bloody Wes pulled his bike out leading the pack and stopped in front of Jake, Cort, Henry, and Chris.  Henry gave him a cold look, laying his hand on his holstered large pistol. Turner spoke up over his loud rumbling engine. "I'll be sending someone to pick up my boys’ bikes sometime tomorrow. Make sure they are still there."

He turned and pointed at both Jake and Cort.  "I ever see one of you damn Bishops again, I might just have to kill you."

Cort snorted in laughter, "I'll make sure my firing pins are in place.  Coward.” 

That got Turner's attention.  He reached for his gun.  But Anderson's voice stopped him in his tracks.  "Go while you still can Turner."

With that he revved the engine and sped away at the head of his pack. Buck gave Jake a nice little wave with his middle finger as he pulled away.  The quiet of the parking lot was deafening after the bikes were out of hearing distance. After a few quiet minutes Cort spoke up. "I'll take care of clean up." 

Cat laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "Thank you Cort."

"I'll give you a hand," Anderson followed him across the parking lot.

"Where are they going?" Jake asked from his chair.

"To take care of our dead," Cat said softly.

Jake began to stand but Cat laid her hand on his shoulder pushing him back to the lawn chair.  "Sit down.  You’re not going anywhere until I’ve patched up your head." 

"Cat, seriously I'm okay," Jake said trying to pull away from her.

“You’re my first miracle heal.” She shoved him down, this time more harshly.  “Now sit still or I’ll have Chris here tie you down.”

Chris rolled his eyes mouthing the words, “Yeah right.”

She lifted his shirt over his head, “It is a miracle,” she said looking at the stitches.  “The wounds are completely healed.”

“So what is he?”  Chris asked carefully.  “Is he still human?”

“Of course I’m still human.”  Jake said heatedly at his best friend.  "Look at my head. Look at my cheek!  If I was a vampire it would have healed already."

“He’s right," Cat said.  “The rest of his wounds are still bleeding.  If he were a vampire they would have healed by now.”

“This is just crazy," Chris ran his hand through his still wet hair.  “I’ve never even heard of something like this before.”