A three quarters moon shone brightly from its apex in the sky emitting white light with a tinge of green. Ahead of me an owl hooted, and the trees were filled with the continuous rhythmic croaking of tree frogs, but behind me all was silent, no animal sounds, no sounds of the vampire’s passage. I continued on slowly, as silently as I could, passing from one clump of bush to the next. I picked up a long heavy branch that had fallen to the ground and hefted it in my hands, knowing that it would not provide much defense if they found me, but it was all that I had. The underbrush was thick, briars and brambles slow to die out as the young poplars and pines fought above them for the sun’s light, and their roots competed for the water of the small creek that ran through them. I stepped cautiously into the stream not splashing, my boots sinking into the mud that lined its bottom, and then crouched down listening and watching. Every leaf hung stoically, a thick hard dark rigid green in the night as if they were statues, which belied their fragility and impermanence. I couldn’t hear anything but my own breath and the slight trickle of water moving beneath me. It felt as if the world had shut down and the earth was releasing one slow relaxing exhalation. I began moving downstream cringing as the mud squelched and the water sloshed into the holes left behind by my boots, which had sunk deeper than I’d realized into the black mud. The creek provided some respite from the underbrush, but branches still beat at my chest and face as they hung out over the water from where they crowded its banks. I moved very slowly, very cautiously, the branch held in one hand as I continuously scanned, turning around and even stepping backwards from time to time so that I could check behind me, even though I could scarcely see five feet in the brush. I moved down the stream this way for about a half an hour, half crouched over, my heart beat slowing from the torrent in my throat, the urgent drum beat in my chest that it had been to a steady thump. Mud caked on my boots and the ends of my pants’ legs, weighing them down and sweat ran down my back in a stream that had soaked through my shirt and my jacket. I didn’t think that these vamps would give up very easily, they weren’t just some vamps who had happened upon me and thought that they could get a bit of fresh blood, or a couple of vamps out for the thrill of the hunt. These vamps wore uniforms and boots, they were probably lieutenants, possibly even sirs, and they wanted to bring me back to the general because he’d had some kind of trouble with my brother. A momentary glimmer of hope entered my mind. Perhaps the general hoped to use me to bargain with my brother, for hostages or something, and then he’d need to keep me alive. And if so then my brother was more than likely still human, unless he just wanted to see me turned as he’d been turned. I had no idea how my brother could be conceivably be in such a position, but these vamps had already seemed unwilling to drain or shoot me, although that didn’t eliminate the possibility that the general just wanted his own “wild” blood treat. Even if they wanted to exchange me alive to my brother I didn’t want to stick around and be brought to their vampire city, surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of blood thirsty fiends eyeing me as they rubbed their stomachs, all the while relying on vampires to protect me from vampires.
A small gurgle from the stream behind me was all the warning I had and I spun around quickly, but all I saw was the butt of a pistol as it struck me in the cheek and the world went momentarily black. I could still feel myself falling like a tall tree, my head rapidly approaching the earth while my feet remained in the same position and then I sank into the soft dank mud. In the fuzz of my darkened mind it seemed as if I was falling into a soft bed piled with blankets. The right side of my face was buried in the mud and a wave of mud splattered the left cheek as my assailant stepped up to me, bent over and put two fingers to the pulse in my throat. His body trembled as he felt it beating there. The mud oozed into my mouth, thick and bitter but earthy. The vampire began whispering to himself in a starting, stuttering fashion. “Such warm blood. Why is this one necessary? We could just pick up another one for the General. I feel my thirst growing. He has wild blood, tasting of the past and forests, of humans who run wild and free exercising their hearts and veins, letting their blood pump through their muscles. Not like that bland blood that we have back in St. Louis. It tastes of mud and sloth.” There was a shifting in the mud and one of his knees was thrust against my shoulder as he kneeled in the mud beside me. “I’ll just leave him here and say I never saw him. They’ll think he escaped us.” He cradled my head in his hands surprisingly gently. “I won’t turn him. I’ll drain him utterly, leaving no life behind to survive.” Then a voice that sounded as if was far above me, but was actually just on the small bank behind us said, “What are you doing you fool? The general
