C.O.T.V.H. (Book 3): Extermination (7 page)

The door slammed shut leaving him in nearly complete darkness.  The only light came from the hardhat sitting upside down on the hardwood floor.  Jake let out a gasp as a giant shadow moved across the beam of light then crushed it out of existence.

A deep heavy breathing filled the cave like darkness.  A sound Jake had heard before, many years ago when his father’s friend Marty White had been turned.  Then it came.  An inhuman growl so loud and vial it sent Jake's entire body to shaking.  His adrenaline immediately began pumping into overdrive.  “BISHOOOOOP!” the beast roared.  “BISHOOOOOOOP!”

Jake’s years of training kicked in and before his mind even realized it, he'd pulled his Maglite and emptied all six shots from his revolver into the first moving shape the light came across.

Blood splattered his safety goggles and a loud cry of pain came from the creature.  He dropped the empty pistol where he stood and grabbed
Judgment
off his back one handed, swinging it with all his might just in the nick of time.  The axe bit deep, too deep.  As the beast pulled away it took the axe with it.

Jake cursed inwardly but didn’t panic. Without missing a beat he yanked the machete from its sheath, thankful his dad had talked him into taking it.  

The  flashlight’s beam shone on nothing but scuffed floors and bare walls. "Damn it where are you!?" he yelled in frustration.  He swung around with the machete held high, prepared for the next attack. 
Hey dumbass!  Why didn’t you just shoot out the windows?  Shut up! 
Jake argued with himself trying to fight back the oncoming panic. 
Where the hell were you two minutes ago?!

Inch by inch Jake eased across the room making his way toward where he imagined the door to be until his foot hit something on the ground.  Jake looked down to see the most beautiful sight in the world,
The Cleaner
.  Just as he reached for it, the heavy grunt landed on his back knocking him to the ground.  The flashlight flew from his hand as a razor sharp pair fangs tore at the coif protecting his neck.

The monster chomped down violently, but the thick chain mail held.  His own axe, still lodged in the grunt’s chest, dug deep into his armored back.  Jake stabbed relentlessly with his machete, cutting and stabbing deep into the monster’s side and legs.  The monster shifted its weight sending the machete flying across the room.

Son of a bitch  weighs a goddamn
ton!  Its entire weight pressed down upon Jake crushing him into the floorboards. “ARGGGHHHH!!”  Jake screamed as the axe blade dug deeper into him.  It couldn’t penetrate the thick Kevlar/body suit but it still hurt like hell.  “NOOOO!” he pushed up with all of his might and just barely managed to roll onto his back.  He grabbed the beast’s thick neck with his left hand and the axe handle with his right.  The grunt’s fanged jaws snapped at him.  Thick saliva oozed from its open mouth, covering his safety glasses.

Unable to free his axe Jake desperately reached into his belt, trying to find anything he could to use as a weapon.  His right hand fell on one of the stakes.  He pulled it free and drove it deep into the creature’s left cheek.  It snarled in pain.  Grabbing the claw hammer, Jake hit the stake right on the head, driving it through the creature’s jaw and sending broken teeth flying into his face.  The grunt cried out and rose to its feet pulling at the piece of steel lodged in its face.

Jake, still on his back, grabbed the 10gauge with both hands and rose to his knees.  He heard the monster charge again.  In his haste he fired from the hip, the heavy recoil knocked him off balance but the shot rang true, stopping the charge.  Regaining his balance, Jake cocked the lever on the gun ejecting the shell and pulled it tight to his shoulder.  He crawled back as far as he could against the wall and scanned the room. Again it was nowhere to be seen.

The windows dumbass!  SHOOT.  THE.  WINDOWS!
The voice in his head screamed relentlessly.  Taking aim he sent buckshot through the covered windows, shattering them and filling the room with warm sunlight.  The creature screamed out in agony.  The smell of burnt flesh and ash filled the room.  Bloodied, burning, with Jake’s axe still lodged in its chest, and an eight-inch steel stake in its face, the creature dropped from the ceiling at Jake’s feet.

Jake reacted without hesitation and fired point blank.  Its head split apart from the nose up like a melon, splattering blood and brain matter across the floor and walls.  Jake cocked the lever and fired into its body again and again until all he heard was the click of an empty gun.  With shaking hands he fed shells into the gun from his vest.  He pointed it at the grunt’s chest pulling the trigger one more time.  It lay rasping in a large pool of black blood.  Bits of skull poked up through its split head.  It was already starting to slowly regenerate.

Picking the hammer off the ground and a steel stake from his belt, he put the stake up against the grunt’s chest, took two quick breaths, and hammered as hard as he could.

It was like hammering into concrete but Jake didn't stop until he couldn't see the top of the stake anymore.  The head of the hammer dripped with dark black blood.

The rasping dissipated and the head stopped coming back together.  Jake stared down at the half charred, nearly unrecognizable remains of a large African American man.  He must have weighed around 350 pounds and was clothed in a tattered white undershirt and a pair of ripped blue jeans.  Except for the long claws protruding from his fingers and toes, he looked human.

Jake couldn't help but feel a momentary bit of sadness for him.  To be trapped in something so horrific.  He couldn't think of a worse kind of hell.  
At least now you’re free.

Now to get to the nitty gritty,
he sighed.  He put one foot on the vampire’s chest and with a grunt yanked the axe free.  Reaching into his belt he felt around for his pliers but noticed they weren't there.  He scanned the room where he had come in and found them lying in a large pool of blood.  Picking them up, he walked back over to the dead vampire.

Leaning down on both knees, he grabbed a hold of one of its fangs in the pliers grip and pulled.  He rocked it back and forth as hard as he could until finally it came free.  In a minutes time he had two bloodied fangs lying in his gloved hand.  Dropping them into a tiny bag on his belt Jake stood up, took a deep breath, threw
Judgment
over his shoulder and chopped two good whacks, blood splattered across his gloves and vest.  The broken head came free and rolled onto its side.

Jake, unable to look at it for another second, picked up the head, knocked out the rest of the glass in the shattered window, and tossed it into the waiting sunlight.  It burst into bright blue flames, leaving a trail of fire on the wooden shingles and scattering at least a dozen buzzards into the sky.

Exhausted, he dropped to the floor in the corner.  It was finally over.  He had done it.  It had been close, he’d screwed up more times than he could count but in the end he had killed a vampire.  Reaching up he pulled the walkie free from its place at his shoulder and pushed the button, "It's over.  Come up."

Chapter 3

Jake

Outside Patricia, TX

September 10, 9:40am

John and Cort’s footsteps echoed up the staircase and down the hallway.

"I'm in here, Dad." Jake called out to him from his spot in the corner. 

John and Cort opened the door, their eyes instantly coming to rest on the headless vampire in the middle of the room.  John's eyes found Jake's and he smiled.  "You did it kid!  I knew you had it in you!"

Cort walked over and prodded the dead body with his steel-toe boot then whistled through his teeth.  “Damn boy!  You sure killed the hell out this one!” he laughed heartily.  “Take a look at this big sucke . . .” he stopped, his eyes focusing on the vampire’s body.  “You know if I didn’t know better . . .” he knelt down and looked at the grunt’s belt.  "My god," he said stumbling backward as if slapped.

"What is it Pop?"  John said walking over and looking at the body.

"John . . . that's . . . that’s Billy . . . I think . . . that’s Billy Williams."

"What?"  Jake said climbing to his feet.  "What do you mean that’s Billy?  That's . . . that’s impossible, Billy's in Hometown.  Isn't he?”  He looked from John to Cort searching their faces for signs that this was a really bad, really tasteless joke.  “Isn't he!?"

"I . . . I . . . don’t know,” John said examining the grunt’s belt buckle.  “I . . . I think he might be right . . . there's only one belt buckle in the world like that."

Jake's eyes stared at the large golden bull riding championship belt buckle on the dead man's belt.  It was riddled with buckshot and coated in blood but there was no denying it.  Jake had seen that buckle a thousand times.  It was Billy’s.  His stomach dropped along with his legs.  He hit the floor hard on his knees.

"My god, Dad.  I . . . I . . . just . . . I just killed Billy!”  Jake covered his mouth with his hand.  “I just cut his . . ."

"Don't you think it boy!” Cort grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet.  “Don't you for one second even let that thought enter your head! 
That
is not Billy Williams!  
That
is a mindless grunt that would have ripped your arms and legs off and drink every ounce of blood in your body!"

"Easy Pop," John said laying a hand on Cort's shoulder.  "He's right Jake.  That may have been Billy once but it's not anymore."

"What the hell is he doing here?!"  Jake screamed. "Dad . . . this isn’t right.  You're telling me we just happen to land a gig that's got one of the most legendary hunters of our time turned into a grunt?  This is all wrong.  This is very, very wrong!"

Cort stormed out of the room and headed downstairs.  John handed a bottle of water to Jake who accepted it taking two long swigs.  No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t take his eyes off of Billy’s body.

"Dad,” he said shaking, “there's a bathroom full of bodies down the hall.  Strung up like some damn hogs in a butcher shop.  Billy wouldn't do something like that."

"Jake . . . it’s not Billy.  Whatever he is, whatever he was, died the minute he was turned.  Come on, gather up your gear and let’s get the hell out of here,” John looked out the window.

“Gather up my gear?!  How can you stand there and act like . . . like this is just some normal hunt?  Billy was your friend!”

“You think I don’t know that?  You think I don’t want to scream at the top of my lungs and just give up?!  Billy was like a second father to me!  Just do what I say, remember your training and follow protocol, gather your gear, then we’re torching the house.”

"What about Billy?  We can't just leave him like . . . like this!"

"We can't do anything for him now.  We'll let the flames take his remains."

"Dad,” Jake swallowed, “Amber, my god Sandra . . . first I let Donnie die, now this! They will hate me for the rest of my life!"

"Jake,” John said softly, “calm down.  You didn’t get Donnie killed and this isn't Billy.  Like Pop said, this is just a mindless grunt." 

Jake pulled the safety goggles off his face and tossed them to the floor then reached up and pulled the coif over his head and with the bottled water wiped his face clean. 
This can’t be happening!

“So long old friend,” John laid a hand on Billy’s arm.  “Your fight is over .  Now you can finally rest,” he smiled sadly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Tell Terry I said hello,” he whispered.  He wiped his eyes then walked past Jake laying a hand on his shoulder, his voice breaking. "Let’s go Jake."

Jake gathered his gear, holstering his .357magnum and sheathed his machete and axe then flung
The Cleaner
over his shoulder.  He took one last look at his old mentor, "I'm sorry Billy.  I'm so sorry.  I didn’t know . . ." he burst into tears, “If I’d known, I never would have . . .” sobs racked his body.  Jake covered his eyes with his hand.  “Goodbye Billy.”  With that said, he turned and walked down the hall.

He was at the top of the stairs about to head down when he remembered the little girls. "Dad!  Wait!" he yelled turning back and opening the closet door.

The door shattered in front of him, knocking him to the floor and sending splinters into his face and now unprotected neck.  He felt something heavy on his chest and opened his eyes staring right into the face of one of those “innocent” little girls that he had rescued not twenty minutes before.  It was the oldest one, Pearl.  Her eyes were a bright almost glowing red.  Large fangs protruded from her mouth.  Her icy breath ran across his neck as she sucked in his scent. 
A Maker!  My god she’s a Maker!

Jake closed his eyes tightly as the memory of Donnie bloodied and dead once again, filled his mind.  He knew what was coming next.  He just prayed it would be swift and she wouldn't turn him.

The loud BOOM of John's shotgun sounded, surprising both Jake and the child vampire at the same time.  The steel slug hit her square in the chest knocking her off of Jake and back into the closet.

"Get out of here Jake!" John yelled cocking the gun, ejecting the empty shell.  "Goddamn it, get out of here now!"

Jake stumbled to his feet just as the child jumped onto his back slicing her claws right through his Kevlar hunting vest and body armor, sinking them deep into his chest.  Jake fell back to his knees directly between Pearl and his dad’s line of sight.  He screamed out in pain as the little demon child ripped deeper into his flesh and let loose a nasty snarl.  "Stay back Hunter!  Or I turn the boy and laugh as he feasts on your flesh!"

"Don't you touch him you little vampire bitch!" John said, his aim unwavering but his voice shaking with panic.  “You hurt him and I swear I'll send you straight to Hell!"

The Maker leaned her head back in a wicked laugh, "You hunters are all the same! The same lines every time.  Just once I'd like to hear something original from your kind. So much passion, but no originality.  Even the old black man said the exact same thing before I tasted his blood and turned him into my slave."