Vampire Seeker (6 page)

As I lay in the dark, the glowing embers of the fire fading beside me, I tried to block out the sounds of the preacher’s
and Louise’s humping. I thought of how many times I had overheard Sally and her boyfriends in the room next to mine
in our flat back in London, and wondered why it was always me left lying awake in the dark listening to others enjoy themselves.
As I tried not to listen to the preacher and Louise, I realised I had never heard such wild sounds before. Karl had never
even brought me close to making noises like it. These cowboys and cowgirls obviously knew how to enjoy themselves.

I glanced quickly at Harry, his back towards me. Not wanting to even begin to contemplate what kind of lover he might be,
I closed my eyes and wondered how long it would be before I could go home.

After only the briefest of conversations, he had struck the deal with the prostitute and the pair of them moved swiftly through
the darkened streets. It was cold. The main street was busy with drunks who had stumbled out of the saloon. He wanted to keep
away from them – other people. He was immaculately dressed in a long-tailed coat. She could see that he wore a crisp
white collar and black tie about his throat. On his head he wore a hat that had a narrow brim and was round on top. The woman
fancied that, despite his good looks and confident manner, he would be all over her in just a few minutes. That suited her,
as she had a young one sleeping at home and she wanted to be out of the cold. The jeers and rants of the drunks faded into
the distance, as the man led her off the main street and behind the shoe smith’s. There was a building which looked
similar in shape and size to a barn.

The man pressed his shoulder against the door and it creaked open. The barn smelt of animals, horses perhaps, but there were
none present. He closed the door behind them, chinks of moonlight slicing through the gaps in the panelled walls. The man
led the woman to the centre of the barn, and then with his foot, he brushed away the straw, making a circular clearing. The
woman thought this was strange, as the straw would have been more comfortable to lie on while they carried out their business.

She ran a slender hand up and across his chest, opening the button with her fingernails, which were cracked and dirty.

“So what’s your pleasure?” she said, trying to sound like she even gave a crap. She just wanted it over
with.

“No talk,” the man said, his voice deep and low.

She paused momentarily, and then continued. There was something about him she didn’t like – but then again, she
hadn’t really liked any of the men she did business with. But this one was different. It was the way his eyes seemed
to have no colour, like two white moons shining out of his face.

With hands that were trembling with the cold or fear – she couldn’t be sure – she unfastened the rest of
the buttons that held his expensive jacket together. That’s why he doesn’t want to get on the floor; he’s
worried he might spoil his…

“What are you wearing that for?” she suddenly gasped, opening his coat. Beneath it he was wearing an apron and
it felt as if it were made from leather.

“Things might get messy,” he said, his voice as deep as before.

“Hey, mister, I’m not into no…” but before she had a chance to finish, her head was swinging backwards
on her neck like a hinge.

The man had moved with such speed, that she had only seen the fleetest glimpse of what looked like a set of claws as they
sliced through her throat. With her head hanging down her back, attached by the thinnest piece of flesh, she clawed blindly
at her throat. To him, she looked as if she were trying to find her own head, so she could put it back on.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he smiled, his voice barely audible over the sound of the gargling coming from
the woman’s neck.

Placing a long-fingered hand in the small of her back to steady the woman, the man lunged forward and bit through the sinew
of flesh that was holding the woman’s head in place. His razor-sharp teeth cut through the stringy lump of flesh as
easy as if he were breaking cotton. Her head dropped and he caught it with his free hand. He raised it before his own face,
and stared almost in wonder at the whites of her eyes, the pupils now rolled back into her skull. The sight of her tongue
lolling from her mouth excited him. With a nervous pleasure sweeping over him, he thrust his face forward. To a passing onlooker,
it would have appeared he was intending to kiss the dead woman’s mouth. But instead, he sunk his teeth into her tongue.
Like a dog tussling with a stick, he ripped her tongue free with his teeth and swallowed it whole. His Adam’s apple
rippled beneath his white skin as the woman’s tongue slid down his throat.

Then he placed her head along with her lifeless body in the clearing he had made on the barn floor. He removed his coat and
hung it from a nail sticking out from the back of the barn door. Carefully, he unbuttoned the sleeves of his crisp cotton
shirt and rolled them to his elbows. Next, smoothing out his leather apron, he knelt beside the woman and set about his work.
Using his claws like knives, he cut the woman’s clothes into strips. Working his abnormally long fingernails like tweezers,
he peeled back the shreds of her dress, exposing the milky coloured flesh beneath. Her skin was smooth, young, and it opened
up like tissue paper, falling from her bones like succulently cooked meat. Once her abdomen was open, he removed her intestines
and entrails and placed them on her chest, using it like a platter. Sitting beside her on the floor, he crossed his legs,
as if sitting down for a meal. Then he gorged himself on her innards. They felt hot and greasy between his fingers. He ate
the liver first, blood and juices running off his chin and splashing his apron. Then her kidneys, lungs, and finally, as if
regarding it as dessert, he ate her heart.

His eyes rolled back in their sockets as he savoured every bloody mouthful. When he felt full, he got onto his knees. He took
her head and positioned it on the ground at the neck of her body. Then, working with the skill of a surgeon, he removed her
eyelids with his fingernails. He wanted her to be able to see what he had done to her for the rest of eternity. He didn’t
want her to be able to close her eyes on it for one moment.

Still kneeling, he worked his way around her body, and with his tongue, he licked up the streams of blood that had spilt from
her. Once satisfied he had licked up every last drop, he stood and licked his fingers clean. The blood was too precious to
waste. Returning to the nail in the door, he took his coat, put it on, and fastened the buttons at the front to conceal his
apron.

Picking a stringy lump of flesh from between his teeth with his fingernail, his fangs almost seem to shrink back into his
gums, and his claws returned to the shape of finely-manicured fingers. Looking back one last time at the woman on the floor,
he licked his lips and then left the barn, disappearing back into the night, as if cloaked by a shroud of fog.

I awoke and sat bolt upright, the fragments of a nightmare hazing at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t remember what
exactly I had been dreaming about, but my heart was thumping in my chest and I felt scared. I tried to focus on the last fragmented
images that swam before me, but to look at them was like trying to stare through a cloud of fog.

I looked around, hoping that perhaps I had awoken on the floor of that train, or better still, my own bed, the last few days
a nightmare of their own. I looked to my left and could see a pile of white ash, a spiral of smoke rising from its centre.
The blanket that Zoe had given me the night before was wrapped about my shoulders. The sky was clouded over, and a dark, dank
cloud lumbered across it. There was a chill breeze and the dry-looking shrubs that surrounded the camp swayed to and fro.

There was a noise behind me, and I looked back over my shoulder to see the preacher cleaning one of his guns with a dirty-looking
rag.

“You’re awake then,” he said, holstering his gun. He was standing next to the wagon, and he reached inside
and took hold of a dented-looking tin mug. “Coffee?”

I nodded at him, my mouth tasting like road kill from the elk and chilli beans that I had eaten the night before.

He bent down and handed me the mug. I took a sip and it was lukewarm and tasted very bitter. I grimaced as he stood up, heading
back to the wagon. It wasn’t Starbucks – but it was coffee and I was grateful for that.

“Where are the others?” I asked him.

Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, he said, “At the river.”

Water!
I thought. I would have given anything for a nice, warm shower. Running the tip of my tongue over my front teeth, I would
have happily given my life for some toothpaste.

Did they have toothpaste in 1888?
I doubted it somehow.

I stood up and went back to the rear of wagon. I handed the tin mug back to the preacher and he chucked the remains into the
stubby grass that spiked up through the hard-panned ground.

“I don’t suppose you have a bath or someplace I could, you know, freshen up?” I asked him.

“Like I said, the river is over there,” and he cocked his thumb again back over his shoulder.

“Oh, okay,” I nodded.

“Be quick,” he said as I headed in the direction he had pointed in. “We have to be in town by noon.”

Remembering the meeting that he had planned with the Englishman, I made my way through the shrub which circled the camp. I
wondered if this man was connected to me in some way. The preacher had said that we had both arrived here at around the same
time. Coincidence? Perhaps. But then again, maybe not. He might know how I could get home.

On the other side of the bushes, I could hear the sound of splashing water and voices. I made my way towards the sounds. I
stepped from the undergrowth and found myself on the bank of a fast-flowing river. Harry was standing next to it; four horses
were tethered together which were drinking from the water. He looked up at me, nodded, then looked away. Zoe and Louise were
further down the riverbank in the opposite direction, and I made my way towards them.

“Hey, Sammy,” Zoe said, fixing her dress at the back. Her hair lay in damp-looking tails about her shoulders.

Louise was fastening her gun belt around her waist, and like Zoe, her long black hair lay wet about her shoulders. “Are
you okay?” she asked me.

“I just need to have a wash, that’s all…” I started, and then stopped as my whole question about toothpaste
was answered.

Zoe snapped a twig from a nearby bush. Placing it between her front teeth, she gnawed briefly on the end, splitting it into
shreds which looked similar to a brush. She then rubbed this back and forward across her teeth as if cleaning them.

“So that’s how you do it,” I whispered.

“Say what?” Louise asked me with a friendly smile.

“Huh?” I said, looking away from Zoe and at her. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Okay,” Louise smiled, snatching up her hat and placing it on her head. Pulling down the brim so I could just
about see her brown eyes beneath it, she sauntered away.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Zoe asked, taking the twig from her mouth and throwing it into the river.

I didn’t fancy much stripping off in front of someone I hardly knew, so I casually said, “No, you’re okay.
I’m just going to have a quick dip and I’ll catch you up.”

“Are you sure?” Zoe said, watching me.

“Sure,” I smiled and turned away.

I waited for the sound of Zoe’s boots crunching over the pebbles to disappear, and then looked back. I just caught sight
of her, disappearing into the tall shrub. Further down the bank, I could see Harry tending to the horses, and he had his back
to me. So as quickly as I could, I pulled off my top, unfastened my guns, and kicked off my boots. I worked my rough-feeling
denims down over my hips and as quickly as I could, I ran naked into the stream.

The water was ice-cold, and I gasped. I let it rush over me, dipping my head beneath the fast-flowing current. Even though
the water had a numbing effect, it made my skin tingle, making me feel alive again. As I took a cup full of the water in my
hands and splashed it across my face and long blond hair, it occurred to me again, that if I were unconscious back in 2012,
how had I created a world that seemed so real – so believable? I could feel the ice-cold water streaming down over my
breasts, between my shoulder blades, covering my skin in gooseflesh. Would I really be able to create that much detail if
I were really caught in some dream? What else would my imagination be able to dream up? What other nightmarish details would
I be able to conjure, as I went around and around on that tube train?

Then, as if to prove my mind was able to create anything, I breathed, “Oh shit” and hoped that the giant brown
bear which was bounding from the bushes and racing towards the water’s edge was a product of my imagination.

I looked at the bank and could see my guns winking back at me in the pale sunlight. They were the first things that I thought
of – strange, really, as I never owned guns before. Back in London, I would probably have been too scared but to think
of anything other than
‘Run, Sammy, Run!’

But this place was different –
I
was different. And my first thought again had been to fight back – to survive. Charging towards the river, the bear
reared up on its back legs and roared. It must have stood at least six foot tall, and its whole body seemed to shake at the
sound of its own bawling. It swiped at the air, its claws capped with long yellow nails that looked like they would slice
my skin from me, as easily as peeling an orange.

The bear dropped onto all fours again and came splashing into the water. I paddled backwards, my legs kicking against the
freezing cold current. For a creature so big, it moved quickly through the water towards me. Its dark brown fur glistened,
and its giant snout opened to reveal a gum full of razor-sharp teeth. My heart was racing so fast that I could hear it beating
in my ears, so loudly it almost drowned out the bear’s roars of anger.