Fiends

19

    Blasts pounding his ears, Jim blew apart the lock. He threw his gun aside, kicked the door, and charged into the Banquet Room.

    Followed by sixteen naked Specials yelling and brandishing spears.

    For just an instant, the vampires around the serving table continued to go about their business - greedily lapping the brown, dry blood from Diane’s face and breasts and legs as Roger groped between her thighs. The four who watched, goblets in hand, were the first to respond.

    Then, roaring, they all abandoned the table and attacked.

    All except Roger.

    Roger stood where he was. He met Jim’s eyes. ‘ You dumb fuck!’ he shouted. ‘Take care of him, guys!’

    The vampires tried. They all rushed Roger.

    But were met, first, by Specials. Some went down with spears in their chests while others tossed the women away or slammed them to the floor or snapped their spines or ripped out their throats.

    Jim rushed through the melee. He halted at the near end of the table as Roger cried out, ‘Is this why you’re here?’ His hands delved. Came up a moment later with a tiny, gleaming infant. ‘Not enough

    to share, I’m afraid.’ Grinning, he raised the child to his mouth. With a quick nip, he severed its umbilical cord.

    One hand clutching the baby’s feet, he raised it high and tilted back his head. His mouth opened wide. His other hand grasped the top of its head.

    Ready to twist it off. Ready to enjoy his special, rare treat.

    ‘No!’ Diane shrieked.

    Jim hurled his spear. Roger’s hand darted down. He caught the shaft, stopping its flight even as the wooden point touched his chest. ‘Dickhead,’ he said. ‘You didn’t really think…’

    Jim launched himself at Diane. He flew over her body, smashed down on her, slid through the wide V of her spread legs and reached high and grabbed the spear and rammed it deep into Roger’s chest.

    The vampire bellowed. He staggered backward. Coughed. Blood exploded from his mouth, spraying Jim’s face and arms. He dropped to his knees and looked up at the infant that he still held high. He lowered its head toward his wide, gushing mouth.

    Jim flung himself off the end of the table, but he knew he would be too late.

    He landed on the spear. As its shaft snapped under his weight, bloody vomit cascaded over his head. Pushing himself up, he saw the baby dangling over Roger’s mouth. The vampire tried to snap at its head, but the tide of rushing gore pushed it away.

    Jim scurried forward. He held the child in both hands until Roger let go and slumped against the floor.

20

    Afterwards, the Donors were released.

    They helped with the burials.

    Eleven dead Specials were buried in the courtyard, their graves marked by crosses fashioned of spears.

    Morgan, Donner and the Guardians, who’d all succumbed to the poison, were buried beyond the south wall of the estate.

    The corpses of Roger and his fellow vampires were taken into the woods to a clearing where two trails crossed. The heads were severed. The torsos were buried with the spears still in place. The heads were carried a mile away to another crossing in the trail.

    There, they were burned. The charred skulls were crushed, then buried.

    After a vote by the women, Doc and three Guardians who’d missed the poisoned squirrels were put to death. Jones had also missed the meal. But the women seemed to like him. He was appointed chef. Jim was appointed leader.

    He chose Diane to be his assistant.

    The child was a girl. They named her Glory. She had Diane’s eyes, and ears that stuck out in very much the same way as Jim’s.

    The small army lived in Roger’s estate, and seemed happy.

    Frequently, when the weather was good, a squad of well-armed volunteers would board the bus. Jim driving, they would follow roads deep into the woods. They would park the bus and wander about, searching. Sometimes, they found vampires and took them down with a shower of arrows. Sometimes, they found bands of outlaws and welcomed these strangers into their ranks.

21

    One morning, when a commotion in the courtyard drew Jim’s attention, he looked down from the north tower and saw Diane gathered around the bus with half-a-dozen other women. Instead of their usual leather skirts and vests, they were dressed in rags.

    Diane saw him watching, and waved. Her hair had grown, but it was still quite short. It shone like gold in the sunlight.

    She looked innocent, glorious.

    She and her friends commenced to paint the bus pink.

Joyce

    Barbara bolted out of the bedroom and straight into Darren’s arms. He caught her, held her.

    ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘What is it?’

    ‘Suh… somebody under the bed!’

    ‘Oh. I’m sorry. Did she frighten you? It’s only Joyce.’

    ‘Joyce?’ Barbara struggled out of Darren’s embrace and gaped at him. ‘But you told me… you said she was dead!’

    ‘Well, of course she is. Do you think I would’ve married you if I still had a wife? It’s just like I said, the brain aneurysm three years ago…’

    ‘But you’ve got her under the bed!’

    ‘Sure. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

    Darren took Barbara by the hand and led her into the bedroom. She staggered along beside him. On the floor by the bed was her suitcase, the one she’d taken with her on the honeymoon, unpacked that evening, and after her shower with Darren had decided to tuck out of sight.

    ‘Luggage doesn’t go under the bed,’ he explained. ‘I keep it out in the garage.’

    Barbara stood there, trembling and gasping inside her new silk kimono, trying to stay on her feet as Darren