Pitch

Vampire. Drinker. Whatever they were called; I believed in them now. How could I not when I had looked out my window and seen what they had done with my own eyes? And even worse than the broken bodies outside – even worse than the senseless murder of innocent people – was the knowledge that no one had come. No one had saved us. Not the police. Not the army. Not the secret service government people. Which had to mean this was happening all over, because how could anyone just sit back and let an entire town be wiped out? The answer was they couldn’t. They answer was the only ones who could help us were fighting somewhere else or they were already dead. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own.

“Dad, you have to get up now. We have to move.” I knocked on his door and when he didn’t answer I opened it and shook him awake. He groaned and covered his eyes against the light that was streaming in through the windows. If this was a regular day I would have closed the blinds and let him go back to sleep. But this wasn’t a regular day. I didn’t know if there would ever be a regular day again. “Dad?” I poked him.

“Whaffisit?” he mumbled.

“Well…” I took a deep breath. It was probably better just to get it over with all at once. “Vampires invaded the town last night. Everyone is dead. If we want to stay alive, we have to find a safe place to hide before dark.”

That certainly got his attention. He sat bolt upright and said, “What? What? Lola, is that you?”

This again? Good thing I had dumped all the beer I could find last night down the sink. “Yes it’s me,” I said impatiently. “Don’t you remember?”

“I… Yes.” His eyes cut away to the bureau in the corner of the room that had been flipped on its side. “I remember. But vampires, Lola? That’s… that’s impossible.”

I shrugged. “Go look for yourself.”

He shuffled over to the window. I waited by the bed. I did not need to see what he was looking at. It was already imprinted in my brain; sizzled into my memory like some sort of hot brand.

“All those people,” he whispered, still looking out. “I don’t understand. Who could have done this? Where are the police?” He swung around, his eyes a little wild, his face a few shades shy of albino. “Have you talked to your mother? Your sister? Are they all right?”

“I don’t know. I dropped my phone last night. It won’t turn on.” And just like that, all of my contact with the outside world had been severed. No cell phone. No regular phone. No internet to send an e-mail or a message on Facebook. No text messages. I had always taken it for granted, how easily I could get in touch with someone, no matter what distance separated us. Now I had no way of knowing if my own mother was alive.

My dad rubbed his face. “Someone will come. Someone has to come.”

“Dad,” I whispered. “There isn’t anyone left.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ninety Miles an Hour Down a Dead End Road

We had to get out of the town. Besides the dead bodies everywhere being the stuff nightmares were made of, it just made more sense to flee to a less populated area. Apocalypse survival 101: run as far away from everything as you can.

I didn’t know if the overnight slaughter of a town of over ten thousand people counted as an apocalypse. I had decided to call it that anyways because I liked the word and how else would I describe what had happened? How else would you describe the people lying in the street in pools of their own blood? Men. Women. Children. Pets. No one had escaped the Drinkers. No one, it seemed, but me and my dad.

Since we were the least likely people to survive an apocalypse I figured it meant there had to be others out there. I mean, if a drunk and a defenseless kid had made it through the night then there had to be other survivors. There had to be.

We had our pick of cars. Many of them had just been abandoned in the street, keys still in the ignition, previous owners dead on the asphalt. Dad picked a navy blue Audi sedan mostly because it was the only car that had a full tank of gas and a little bit because he had always wanted to own one but had never had enough money.

I piled all our stuff in the back while he grabbed more bottled water and batteries from the drug store across the street.

“Ready?” he said when I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt.

“We have to make one quick stop first.”

“What? Why? That’s not part of the plan.” His knuckles turned white as they gripped the steering wheel. I did my best not to notice.

Dad has never been very good in crisis situations. I still remember when my sister fell during her basketball game and broke her ankle. He went absolutely nuts before he passed out. And then there was the time I was twenty minutes late coming home from school in the fifth grade. Mom had to physically restrain him from calling the National Guard. So far he’s holding himself together pretty well given the circumstances. I can only hope it lasts.

“Travis. I have to see if he’s all right,” I said.

Dad started the car. “Where is he? At his house?”

“Well…” I hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly?” Dad’s voice pitched up an octave. “Where is he, Lola?”

Oh boy. It was funny, really, that in the wake of everything that had happened some part of me was afraid of telling my dad where I had been last night. What was he going to do, ground me?

“I thought it would be cool to see if I could hotwire a car. I talked Travis into coming. It was on the East side, Turner Street. We heard a loud noise from inside and knocked on the front door. A guy answered. One of them. He put some sort of trance on Travis and he walked right in.”

“Lola,” he sighed.

“I know, I know,” I said hastily. “I promise I won’t do it again but I can’t just leave without him. I know he’s probably not… not okay but I have to check, Dad. I have to be sure.”

“What if that thing is still there?” he asked apprehensively.

“He’ll probably be in the basement or something. Maximus said they couldn’t come out in the daylight.” I had told Dad about Maximus this morning. That, and the gun that was currently sitting in my lap, had finally convinced him the Drinkers were real. The bodies piled outside hadn’t hurt either.

Dad sighed as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. When we reached Main Street and headed left, towards the East side of town, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief and slumped back, gazing out the window as Dad weaved through the motionless traffic.

Everything was destroyed. Shop windows had been smashed in. Cars were driven up over the sidewalks. A truck with a boat attached had been flipped completely over and was hanging half in and half out of Petunia’s Pastry Shop. Here and there fires burned and I wondered how long it would take for them to consume the entire town.

Was this what they had intended? Utter destruction? But why? What was the sense in it? I only knew the basics about vampires courtesy of movies. Sunlight burned them, they were allergic to silver, and they drank blood. Why, then, had not one single victim been drained? Mutilated, clawed apart, ripped open: yes. Emptied of blood: no.

It turned my stomach and I had to swallow back more vomit, but I made myself