Trail Of Blood

Chapter 1

The door slammed hard , rattling in its jamb as Paul stormed into the hellhole that was his bedroom. He could hear his father’s heavy, plodding footsteps up the stairway, drawing near.

Come on, Paulie! Why can’t you stay home tonight? Huh? You and me, we can watch a movie...order a pizza...you know, like we used to... His father slurred from behind the door.

Paul shook his head, breathing out from his nose, Not tonight, dad. I got plans.

His father smacked his meaty hand on the door, Bullshit! You’re hanging out with those scumbag friends of yours again. I know what you kids do—I’m not an idiot. You know...I was young once too.

They’re not scumbags. They’re my friends. And you drink more than all of them combined!

That’s not fair...that’s not fair, Paulie. I wasn’t always like this...not when...not when... His father’s deep voice degenerated into a mewling sobbing sound that Paul was all too familiar with.

This is you! This is the only father I know; a broken-hearted frigging drunk. You know, when mom died you lost your wife, but me, I lost both my parents! Mom haunts every picture on the walls and you’re just a goddamned ghost.

He could hear his father sniffling beyond the door. He waited for a fist to punch through. Paul knew his words were cruel, and hurtful, but they rang true, at least he thought they did. The father he knew only a year ago vanished when his mother died. They said she was attacked by an animal, a wolf maybe, which was a hard pill to swallow. Wolves weren’t even native to the area. Paul believed she was murdered, but his father said otherwise in an attempt to keep the concept out of Paul’s head. Though in truth, he agreed with his son. Whatever did it, had teeth, but it was no animal. He didn’t want Paul to have to carry that around with him. The idea his mother was murdered. An animal attack, an accident, would be easier to accept in the long run. A murder with no witnesses or leads would leave the matter unresolved forever. His father said it had to be an animal, just in the hopes his son would accept it. When he went to identify her, her throat was ripped apart, most of it was missing altogether.

That image of her always remained. It was something that never faded or softened over time. It was as raw as ever.

His father’s heavy footfalls descended down the steps and Paul let out a breath of relief. He sat down on his bed and let the few tears that had been building around his eyes fall. He wiped them away and looked around his room. Jim Morrison stared at him from the black and white Doors poster that was thumbtacked to the wall. All around his room were patched up holes he’d punched in the walls. Some of them were covered by posters, and others he’d taken the time to patch properly, but never did he bother to sand them down and repaint them.

The room was a disaster, and he felt a twinge of guilt because he knew his mother would hate to see his room like this. It didn’t matter too much though, because his father had seen fit to make the rest of the house match. Be it by fist or drunken stumble.

Paul walked over to the bookcase in his room. He wasn’t a bookworm, but he did enjoy reading graphic novels and horror books on occasion. He had a shelf dedicated to The Walking Dead, another was full of Scalped and American Vampire trades. Most of the other shelves were full of beat up paperbacks from some of his favorite authors; Clive Barker, Stephen King, Jack Ketchum, Brian Keene, Edward Lee and a few others. He plucked out Dark Hollow, a novel by Keene, and behind it was a Ziploc sandwich bag of pot that was in dire need of being refilled. He cracked open the book, and acting like a bookmark, was a thin package of rolling papers.

He took the bag and papers and sat down at a small desk in the corner of the room where his laptop sat and rolled himself a joint.

Paul opened up the laptop, and seeing how low the battery life was, attached it to the charger. He then scrolled through his iTunes till he hit on Black Sabbath. He lit the joint and took a soft pull while War Pigs began to play. By the time Planet Caravan came around he was in a world of his own.

PAUL DESCENDED THE stairs. He didn’t do it discreetly. He didn’t give a shit if his father was still awake or not. Paul wanted to go out with his friends and that was that. There was no need for discretion or stealth.

Once he hopped off the last step he could already hear his father snoring on the couch. Ghost dad drank himself to sleep again and Paul was not surprised. This was his everyday.

Paul closed the door, not bothering to lock it. If anyone ever wanted to break-in he wasn’t worried about any of his belongings being stolen. He didn’t have much. If anyone ever bothered to try, all they’d find was a drunken ghost and a hollow home. Old photographs of his family weren’t exactly fence-worthy finds either, and that was the only thing of any value in there. At least to Paul and his father. Everything else was just stuff.

Though Paul had his license, he had no car. He could always use his father’s, but he didn’t feel like driving everyone around tonight. Tonight he just wanted to get lit up and forget about all the bullshit. He missed his old life. He missed playing board games with his mother and father. He missed pizza night. He missed all the stupid shit he took for granted.

He and his friends usually hung out somewhere in town and it being only a few square miles walking wasn’t a big deal. Besides, the town pigs didn’t seem to care about anything that the townies did. If you were from out of town you were likely to get pulled over. Other than that they were never around.

He walked down the sidewalk, night drawing near, and dug his iPhone out of his pocket. He started a Group MMS to see who was going to be out tonight, but knew he could count on the usual suspects. They’d probably already picked up the beer from Krauser’s and were just waiting on the weed.

THERE THEY WERE: LEE, Summer, and Mitch. All hanging out at the train station across from Krauser’s. Paul could see they had plenty of black plastic bags full of booze, most likely a ton of Natural Ice, and a few forties of Olde English.

There he is! Mitch yelled.

Lee started clapping slowly with a happy grin on his face. Summer smiled and her face seemed to glow under the sickly light of the street lamps. Paul crossed over the tracks and joined them. They bumped fists and Summer kissed him on the cheek, Tonight’s a special night, she said softly.

Paul blushed and thankfully it was dark, otherwise he knew his cheeks would be glowing red. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was alluding to but he couldn’t wait to find out. They had an on-again off-again relationship through most of high school and now that they were almost out he didn’t know what would happen between them. Neither talked much about what would happen after high school.

You’re just in time, dude, Lee said as he dangled a large Ziploc bag in his hand.

Nice. Did you get me one?

Of course. We also have something else in mind as well.

Later, Mitch urged.

Like?

Later, Paulie. Trust me, you’re gonna love it.

THE FOUR OF THEM WALKED down to the bay, lugging black bags full of beer and a few packs of twisted tea.

A bonfire raged in the distance and several silhouettes blended into the night. A stereo was cranked; Doomriders ripped through the speakers.

The night was cool, and being on the bay, it was cooler still, but something warm and menacing hung in the air. Everyone was drinking, dancing, sucking face, someone was getting blown in the back of one of the cars. By all indications this was a good night and a good time but there was something as tangible as TNT in the air.

Paul caught a glance of Summer standing near the fire. Her dirty blonde hair blew with the breeze and her hips moved gently with the hard music. She sipped from a forty and when she swallowed, her eyes met his. There was no menace in her face, only the serene beauty he’d known to always be there. Everything else in the world seemed to fade away and become background noise while the moon seemed to shine down on only her.

Nothing bad could happen tonight.

There would be no fights.

No bad blood.

Just a good time, despite the sensation to the contrary.

As the night went on the party started to die down. Couples went off to go pound skin. Others were just tired. Some wanted to hit up the diner. Pretty soon it was just Paul and his close friends.

It was time, and it started simply enough...

What are you going to do after school? Summer had asked.

Probably just work. Might go full time for a year and then go to county. I don’t really know just yet. What about you?

I was going to go away to school, but I don’t know if school’s even for me anymore.

This was a surprise to Paul. If school was for anyone, it was for Summer.

Night school, maybe, Lee said, chuckling.

Maybe, Summer agreed with a wicked smile..

But you could probably go anywhere you want.

Mitch grabbed Paul by the shoulder, his face looked gaunt in the firelight, What if you could live forever?

Paul took the question seriously. With the look in Mitch’s eyes, he couldn’t take it any other way. They were all stoned and drunk, but somehow this was turning into a night of introspection. What would I do, if I could live forever? Probably see the world. Travel to wherever whenever.

No, Paul, what if you could live forever, not what would you do. Would you do it?

Yeah, of course.

What if you had to kill? Lee asked.

Kill? To live forever? Once? Twice? How many times? How many people?

Summer took Paul’s hand and held it in her own, You read a lot of horror books, Paul, you should know where this is going.

Paul looked around at them, dumbstruck. He couldn’t tell if they were fucking with him or ready to kill him.

Be one of us, Paul, she pleaded with him, in her words and in her eyes.

We can rule the night, Mitch said.

It’s so freaking awesome, Lee smiled, showing his fangs.

Paul fell back, startled. Lee laughed. Mitch smiled, standing over him and offering him a hand up.

Summer showed him her fangs and as sharp as they were she still appeared as soft and as delicate as ever.

You assholes all got fake teeth to screw with me tonight? He asked as he took Mitch’s hand and got up.

Dude, these ain’t fake. Fucking pull them if you don’t believe me, Lee offered.

Summer took his hand once more and gently brought his finger to her mouth. The crotch of his pants immediately grew tight. She ran his finger along her teeth and to the tips of her fangs. She drew her fangs back in. Paul gasped. Then she bared them once more and he stared at her in awe.

Wh...when did you all become...vampires?

Just the last few days, Mitch answered.

How...? Paul stammered.

The blood, Lee said, showing off his teeth.

Are you in, or out?

Be one of us.

Just do it, man. Shit’s awesome.

Paul looked around at his friends. He thought he must’ve lost his mind. They were all vampires. Bloodsuckers. Creatures of the night. How the hell could he turn that down, he wondered. Hell yeah, he said, is it gonna hurt?

Just a little, Summer smiled and drew a sharp fingernail across her chest. Drink, she said, and I’ll drink a little from you too.

She bared her fangs again and bit into his neck as he drank from her chest.

Chapter 2

What was I thinking ? was Sam Logan’s only thought. At least the only thought he had until the right cross knocked it from his head. Then, it was how much blood actually tasted like a penny. And pennies tasted like shit.

Sam was tied to a wooden chair in a large dark room in a long empty warehouse. There were several barrels nearby. One with an open lid, no doubt reserved for him. Whatever was in those barrels was decomposing. Another recognizable rotting odor hung in the air: algae, wet earth, decayed vegetation and still water. There was something else recognizable in the air but before Sam could pinpoint it another right cross knocked all thoughts out of his head. Funny thing about right crosses, any solid punch really, they caused the mind to not dwell on such things as the smell of whatever swampy marshland that was near.

Break the bastard’s nose, he looked to see who it was, but a huge standing light was shooting on him and, even through a squint, he couldn’t make anything out but blurred shapes. Still there was something about the voice that nagged at him, something familiar. Maybe next time he won’t be so inclined to stick it where it doesn’t belong.

His nose? another voice cackled. I say break his neck. Much better for us in the long run.

I don’t know who you guys are, but you have about two minutes before this place is covered with Network agents.

It was a bluff, and a bad one. His captors knew it for the lie it was before it left his lips. They all laughed. Big and hearty, mocking ones.

The first voice, the familiar one spoke. Even if that were true, we’d still have time to get away, scot-free. Besides, we all know that Samuel Logan, P.I. has about as much use for the Network as they do for him. Which isn’t very much, at all.

All he could do was buy time. He wasn’t the kind of man to grovel, or beg for his life, but neither was he the type to speed to the end. Nope, whether if he was destined to the old Pearly Gates or the Great Lake of Fire, he was in no hurry to get his ticket punched sooner than necessary.

"Use has nothing to do with it, bub. It’s more of a survival instinct kind of thing. But, while we’re talking, why