Kill Wilson (Petersburg Vampires)

This
story has been going around for a few years, and like all good yarns, it seems
to have grown until it has taken on epic proportions. That’s fine, if the folks
involved in the war were all dead and buried. But that’s not the case.

Thing
is, there’s a bunch of people who, directly, or indirectly, were responsible
for the events that took place on Mitkof Island, in Southeast Alaska. And
seeing as I know more than a few of them, and I know the truth about who did
what to who, it makes sense that a proper recording of the events needed to be
made. My friends who had a hand in the war, vampires and humans, have given
their blessing for the truth being put into printed form.
 

You
heard me right…Vampires. There are a sizable number of vampires living amongst
the human race. Many are working alongside you, some socializing with you, a
few teaching your children in school; and occasionally, you might even have
slept with one.

The
story begins with three roving vampires, and a night that went horribly wrong.

Anne
Marie Paine, (a vampire who had been murdered and reborn in 1882 at the age of
sixteen) along with her sire, Danner, and her brother, Riley, have spent a
hundred years traveling the country, roaming from one place to the next.
They’ve made friends, forged business alliances, and made a bit of money; but
they were drifters, answering to nobody.

Things
change when Danner is called to appear before his sire in a tiny town in
Alaska. The three leave immediately, not realizing their immortal lives are
about to be changed forever. The horrific events that take place during their
ill-fated trip leave Anne Marie with one single focus: to collect a blood debt
from Danner’s sire, Beryl Wilson.

The
tiny, unqualified girl is willing to sacrifice everything, including her
immortality, in the pursuit of Wilson’s head.

For
nearly two years, Anne Marie trains with the world’s greatest warriors,
preparing her body…and her mind, for the impossible task.

Assembling
a crew of vampire warriors and human Army veterans, she sets out for Alaska to
collect the debt Wilson owes. The team contains a former Ranger sniper, a
Kenjutsu
sword master, a munitions expert, and the greatest
vampire warrior of the past 500 years.

What
follows is an honest account of the vampire war that took place near the town
of Petersburg, Alaska. This straightforward version of the events doesn’t
attempt to gloss over the facts. There is violence, horror, sex, and drugs.
There is grotesque murder, insanity, and sadism on a grand scale.

But
there is also friendship, loyalty, respect…and finally, closure.

Above
all else, the story sticks to the facts. If you have a weak stomach, I suggest
you continue researching the other numerous accounts recorded about the
Petersburg War. You might find a softer, gentler version of the story. But you
won’t find the entire truth anywhere but right here.

For
those who have the fortitude to continue, don‘t be scared. But I suggest you be
ready to accept the reality about vampires. A good rule to live by is…it’s a
hell-of-a-lot better to have them on your side, than as your enemy.

When
you finish this story, I think each of you will agree.

Kill Wilson is a work of
fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Kill
Wilson

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then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of the author.

Copyright@2013
R.G. Lawrence
. All rights reserved, including the right to
reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may
be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded,
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The publisher does not have
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third-party websites or their content.

Acknowledgment

A special thank you to my copy editor, E.A.
Lawrence.

There’s nobody better.

Books by R.G. Lawrence

Golden
Boy

Summer
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Fidel

The
Circle

Kill
Wilson

Kill
Wilson

Prologue

Vancouver,
British Columbia

 
The boy was on the
threshold of insanity, the events of the past few minutes his most horrible
nightmare times ten. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to see the carnage
surrounding him. The smell was horrific beyond belief, a mixture of the coppery
stink of blood mixed with the urine and feces and intestinal gas voided from his
friend’s dead bodies.

He was in a killing room, and his heart was the only one still
beating.

It had started so innocently, the four young men
bar-hopping like most Friday nights, the grind of school forgotten in the
bright lights of the Vancouver gay scene. Three of the four attended the University
of British
Columbia,
the fourth was an art student at
Emily Carr. Most weekends ended with the four sick and hung-over, but satisfied
they were getting all they could get from their college years…and their parents
monthly expense checks. That they found solace in each other was a blessing,
one they didn’t take lightly.

Occasionally one or two of them would get lucky and
disappear for a time with a new, anonymous partner, but after three years in
Vancouver, they accepted being gay was lonely. If a guy had a few friends to
hang out with, he was way ahead of the curve. Belonging to something was so
much better than belonging to nothing.

All four boys noticed the strangers walking through the
door of the
PumpJack
Pub on Davie Street. There were
two of them, tall and gorgeous in semi-formal evening attire, long overcoats
and scarves hanging nonchalantly around their necks. They weren’t much older
than the boys sitting at the table, although the manner they carried themselves
and the way they were dressed made them appear worldlier. There was a definite
cultural schism between the two groups.

They paused, looking around the bar as if searching for somebody.
The one in front was well over six feet tall with long blonde hair reaching his
shoulders, and blue, piercing eyes.

A predator, the boy remembers thinking; a beautiful, breathtakingly
perfect predator. And it was obvious he was on the prowl.

Oh, please let it be me, the boy begged. The second was
shorter and lighter with dark, wavy hair falling over his forehead and covered
his ears; no less attractive than the blonde. They were danger, and the four
boys wanted whatever they had to offer.

When the strangers approached their table, the boy’s first
thought was nobody ever paid them any attention, why would two of the most
beautiful men he had ever seen end up standing inches from his chair? A red
flag went up in his head, quickly replaced with the yearning to do anything
this man wanted him to do.

When he started to talk, his voice was mesmerizing to the
four.

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Sheldon, and my friend
and I are making the rounds of some of the night spots in Vancouver, and we
thought it would be more fun with a crowd,” the blonde said, his eyes resting
on each of the boys one by one. “We have a car out front. Won’t you care to join
us?
Our treat.”

An army battalion couldn’t have kept the four from departing
with the strangers. They indeed had a car out front, a black Mercedes stretch,
the driver standing next to the open rear door. The group hit most of the gay
bars in Vancouver, the drinks flowing, and the strangers indeed paying the
tabs. As the boy neared total intoxication, he thought how strange the two men weren’t
drinking.

Somewhere along the line he passed out.

He woke when the limo pulled up a circular drive and
stopped in front of a stunning, colonial mansion. The front of the home was
brightly lit, and as the seven men exited the car, the front door opened and a
tall, good looking man smiled down at them.

“Welcome to my home, gentlemen; I take it you’ve enjoyed
a splendid evening. If you’re up for it, please join us for a little after-hour
party.”

“This is getting creepy,” one of the boy’s friends
whispered, the two looking around and realizing the house was located deep in a
forest; no other lights or sounds nearby.

“Just roll with it,” the boy slurred. “Not costing us
anything.”

The tall man led them through the house, descending down
a circular staircase to a lower level. The boys gasped at the setup. There was
a fully stocked bar, a buffet of finger foods, sandwiches and desserts, and a
plate full of what the boys discovered was very potent cocaine. The music was
coming from a first rate sound system, the tunes modern and just loud enough to
add to the atmosphere without being invasive.

“I’m so glad you could be here tonight,” the man was
saying. “We only make it to Vancouver a few times a year, so we’re without a
lot of friends in the area. I’m happy Sheldon found four new friends for us to
enjoy tonight.”

The party was on, the boys taking advantage of the food
and drink; but above all the drugs. Within an hour, the gluttony progressed to
an orgy of sexual perversions the boys only dreamed of, not one of them
complaining. Never in their wildest fantasies had they thought they would be
indulging in sex with the type of beautiful people who were hosting them. They
were amazed at their ability to perform over and over, chalking it up to the
potent cocaine hits within easy reach. Naked bodies were slamming each other in
every possible position, partners were interchangeable, and groups were inventing
new and perverse methods of sexual maneuvers.

The boy was worn out, forcing himself to take a break
from the non-stop action. His stomach was sour from the intake of alcohol and
drugs, and every inch of his body was sore. Despite all or this, he thought
this was the best night of his life. He giggled to himself, knowing he had
indulged in more sex tonight than all the times put together in his life.
 
My dick is raw, he laughed, looking down at
himself, shocked he was becoming erect yet again. What the hell is going on? I
feel like Superman.

He slid down the wall, leaning back and closing his eyes,
telling himself a five minute rest was all he needed before he would jump back
into the action.

When the boy’s eyes finally opened, all thoughts of his
penis, Superman, and the pile of unused cocaine were replaced by a scene so shocking
it almost stopped his heart. The boy watched unbelieving as his young friend
from Emily Carr was held upright by two of the men, a huge smile on the
youngster’s face as he proudly displayed his rock hard erection for all to see.
One hand was caressing himself, the other on the chest of the man on his left
who was vigorously sucking the boy’s neck. The other man, the blonde Sheldon, calmly
leaned over and took a massive chunk from his friend’s neck, leaving a gaping
wound and severing every artery and vein, the vessels squirting crimson blood
like miniature fire hoses.

All sound stopped as the other men looked on with hunger,
the remaining three boys staring in horror as their friend was drained of his
life blood.

Then the real butchery began, the boys slowly and methodically
torn apart, the men eating and drinking from them until they were nothing but empty
shells of what they had been. The students were eviscerated, their intestines
sliding around on the wooden floor, mixing with the remainder of their excess
body fluids. The boy watched as arms and legs and heads were tossed aside as if
they were chicken bones tossed aside at a fast food joint. They drank every
drop of blood from the three boys, the naked predators moving to a grotesque,
sparkling dance in the twinkling lights of the blinking disco ball.

He squeezed his eyes shut; vowing to never open them
again…but he couldn’t do anything about the other senses. The screaming death
throes of his friends mixed with the howls of the monsters, the disgusting
smells, and the feel of the slippery liquids flowing across the floor beneath
his fingers pushed him into a state of near insanity.

When the noise finally abated, he prayed he was alone,
and only then did he peek through slit eyes. He was staring into the face of
pure evil, looking at the tall man, the host, standing not three feet in front
of him, his eyes full of death; razor sharp fangs filled his mouth.

“Who…who are you…why did you kill my friends?” he finally
managed in a shaking, squeaking voice, tears streaming down his face, mixing
with the cocaine fueled snot flowing from his nose.
 

The man smiled, not one degree of humor in his eyes.

“My name is Wilson. I killed your friends…well, because I
can. You see, I am life and death…and you…you are nothing. Do you want to know
why you’ve been spared?”

The boy couldn’t answer, only nodded.

“You are the pretty one. When I saw you, I decided you
would be going home with me. Welcome home, my child.”

Wilson reached down and grabbed the boy by his hair,
pulling him to his feet. Looking the boy in the eye and smiling, he kissed him
on the lips,
then
calmly opened his mouth as wide as
he could and sank his fangs deep into the boy’s throat. Wilson fed hungrily
from the young student from UBC, the boy who would be his newest vampire.