LIFERS Chapter Twenty Four

Gregg and Jill climbed from the hatch and into the garage area which was about half the size of a basketball court and smelled of petroleum fumes and rubber. The building was grey corrugated metal with defused plastic sky-lights inlaid into the roof, and on the wall that faced Main Street and the Schoolhouse they’d just come from, was a closed roller shutter painted a gaudy shade of green, most of which had flaked off.

Not much light seeped through the defused plastic but it was sufficient to see by, and there was no need to advertise their position by switching on the overhead fluorescents. The floor had been painted red and had a half dozen puddles from roof leakage dotted here and there, and on the left of the roller shutter was a grey, wood-panelled door, its square, sticky aluminium letters spelled out the word “OFFICE”, below which, were a small bunch of keys hung on a nail.

A truck that could so easily have belonged in the 1940’s had been parked inside the garage along with a windowless mini-bus propped up on blocks. Gregg made a fist and knocked on the truck’s rusty bulbous tank, its logo telling of ownership and contents, “Petroleum Heating Co ltd” and below that, “Kerosene Paraffin Oil” then a warning “Caution, Highly Flammable”. He knocked and raised and knocked and raised a half dozen times to find the oil level. If indeed it actually contained what it said on the tin. He came to the conclusion that the tank was almost three-quarters full.

‘Here, try these,’ Jill shouted, and tossed over the bunch of keys.

Gregg opened the truck’s door and found the interior a complete wreck. Wires were hanging from under the dash and loose papers littered the whole cab. There were reddish-brown stains on the floor that looked like dried rust puddles, but they could just as easily have been something else. It was by no means a stretch-limo, but if he could get it started and use it to get them and the girls out of there, it’s was as good as.

There were seven keys on the bunch but only two ignition keys, he pushed the first one in but it wouldn’t twist. He tried the second which turned all the way, but nothing happened. No sound, no roaring engine, no choking fumes. He pulled the lever to dislodge the hood and climbed out. Everything looked in order except the battery; there wasn’t one, and its compartment and the area around it looked to have corroded when Franklin D. was in office.

Gregg was still looking at the oxidized remains when he heard a door creak open. He looked to see Jill enter the office and then beckon for him to go over.

‘The trucks had it,’ he said.

‘Never mind that, take a look outside.’

From the office window, Gregg saw a short, portly man stood in the pouring rain by one of the gas pumps. He had a red plastic container in one hand and a fuel nozzle in the other. And by the way he threw down the nozzle; he wasn’t having much luck in filling the container.

‘I’m betting that isn’t Sheldon,’ Jill said.

‘No way, if he was one of them he wouldn’t be out in that.’

‘We need to get him inside before they see him.’

‘If we do we’ll have to tell him what’s going on here, though I doubt he’d believe one syllable of it.’

Jill scoffed. ‘You doubt he’ll believe it? He’ll think we’re crazy if you ask me.’

‘So you wanna leave him out there?’

She looked back at the man to see him trying to wrestle the pump into submission. ‘We can’t, not if we’ve still got Sheldon to deal with.’

‘Then we tell him.’

‘Do we tell him about you?’

Gregg paused. Shook his head. ‘No.’

Jill tapped on the glass to get the man’s attention, who, after peering over the rim of his glasses, ceased in his violation of the gas pump and moved to the window, a beaming smile on his face.

‘Morning,’ he shouted over the wind. ‘I need to buy some gas but the pump is off.’ He removed his glasses and wiped his face with a handkerchief.

Jill slid the serving window sideways a little. ‘Where are you from, mister?’

‘New York, I was on my way to Cleveland for a convention, but I kinda lost my bearings out here. And now my van’s outta gas, it’s about a half mile away,’ he said, pointing nowhere in particular.

‘Go to the shutter,’ Gregg told him. ‘I’ll see if we can get it open.’

The man replaced his glasses and disappeared from view. On the inside, just above a metal oil drum, there were three circular buttons. Two green ones with a red one sat in the middle of them; next to those was a grey junction box for the electrics, which Gregg flicked to the on position. Each of the green buttons displayed a small arrow, one up, one down, and the red button had the word “Stop” embossed onto it. He pushed the up button and the door began to rise, grating as it went and losing even more green paint. And as soon as a moderate gap appeared at the bottom, the driving wind blew sheets of rain underneath which made Gregg move to one side, and when the gap reached four and a half foot, he hit the red button.

The man bent at the waist as far as his bulk would allow and shuffled sideways to get inside. Then Gregg pushed the other green button and the shutter began to descend.

‘What’s with this weather?’ the man said, throwing down his arms in a bid to shake off excess water. ‘Oh sorry, the name’s Demby, Nicholas Demby,’ he added, and pulled a damp business card from his inside pocket.

Nicholas Demby
Pyrotechnics Engineer
Flash Bang Wallop Display Fireworks
Tel: 555 BOOM

Niccholas Demby used his forefingers like wiper-blades to clean his lenses and rid them of condensation, and then, being able to see a little clearer, he looked Jill and Gregg up and down and smiled.

‘Guess you two are dodging the posse, huh?’ he said. ‘What did you do, rob the bank and shoot the sheriff?’

Neither of them acknowledged his remarks, though Gregg did remove the hat, and then wondered if this guy was another psychic.

Demby held out a hand. ‘Friends call me Nick,’ he said.

With little distinguishable distance between his head and shoulders, Nick stood no taller than five-two. He looked to be about 200 lb and wore a black jacket and trousers, black shoes, and a white button-down shirt with a maroon tie. A silver triangle had been inlaid into the tie with an eye inside it, and he wore square, black-rimmed glasses. His ear-length black hair hadn’t been styled with any real intent, and he walked with a slight limp.

Gregg shook the offered wet hand, but didn’t remove his glove. ‘Hi, I’m Gregg, this is Jill.’

Nick gave them both a nod and a short smile.

‘So what’s the convention, Nick?’ Jill asked.

Before he said anymore, Nick checked over both shoulders and moved a little closer. ‘It’s the Conspiracy three National Science Fiction Convention, and known as the true gathering for all fans of science fiction. The guest speaker is sci-fi writer Derrick Flint; he’s my favourite by the way. And there’s comics author and artist Diane Pollock, and fantasy writer Isambard Carmichael. It’s gonna be the best NSFC, ever.’ he said, his voice reaching a high-pitched crescendo.

‘Wow,’ Gregg said. ‘That sounds great.’

‘I know, and that’s why I can’t miss it, that and the fact that I’m half of the pyro team who’s doing the fireworks display for the final night in two days time. I kinda need to be there, ya know? So, can you sell me that gas now?’

‘Thing is, Nick, this isn’t our place,’ Jill said. ‘We’re just in here for shelter.’

‘And there’s no one else around, no one who can get the pumps to work?’

Gregg thought he’d break their news to him gently. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘No one you’d want to meet, anyway.’

‘Why, they got two heads or something? They got horns?’

They both stayed silent, flat-faced.

‘What?’ Nick said. ‘What?’

‘What if we told you they did have horns?’

Nick frowned. ‘I’d say you were pulling my pisser on account of what I just told you regarding the sci-fi convention.’

‘See, told you he wouldn’t believe us.’

‘Then tell him the truth.’

‘The whole truth?’

‘Every bit.’

Nick’s eyes flitted left and right, left and right. ‘Hey, c’mon you guys, if there’s something you think I oughta know...’

Gregg sighed. ‘Okay, Nick, this is the truth. I’m a private investigator and I’m trying to find a young girl who was abducted about a week ago, and there are other missing girls here, too. The information I have led me to this place, and in the time I’ve been here I’ve discovered that everyone in this town has been injected with some kind of virus, and that virus has turned them into blood-sucking vampires. So what do you say to that?’

Nick stared at Gregg for some seconds before he started to look around at the walls. He checked each corner and inspected every shadow; he even scoped-out thr front of Gregg’s jacket and Jill’s poncho. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I give up, where are they?’

‘Where’s what?’

‘The hidden cameras.’

‘There aren’t any cameras, Nick, and like I said, what I just told you is the truth.’

Nick shoved his hands in his pants pockets. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘All I want is some gas. Just sell me the gas, take my money, and I’m gone. There’s no need to take the piss outta me, ya know?’

‘Look, Nick, I know it’s hard to believe, but Gregg’s telling the truth, he really is trying to find a girl who went missing. And I was taken prisoner by this lot just a few hours ago. Plus, there are six other young girls whose bodies have been mutilated and drained of blood and are now swinging from meat-hooks in a room just across the street. Not only that, my best friend is lying dead in the police station next to that room, with a cattle-prod sticking out from her chest.’

Nick’s gaze switched between them again. ‘Is that straight up?’ he said. ‘Vampires? And no bullshit?’

Gregg showed his ID. ‘Vampires, and no Bullshit.’ he said.

‘I fuckin’ knew it. I always said they existed, but that stinking Jew barber of mine Harry Sherman would never believe me. He’ll have to eat his words now though. I bet they’re as common as aliens. Oh, I’ve never seen a real alien, but I know they’re out there, all right. Hey, are there werewolves here, too?’

‘No, Nick, no werewolves, just vampires.’

Nick halted his euphoria, calmed, and then pushed his glasses along his nose. ‘I need to ask you again,’ he said. ‘Are you telling me the honest-to-goodness truth?’

Gregg just nodded.

‘Ho-lee shit … just wait till the convention guys get a load of this. I gotta go back to my van. I gotta go get my camera. I gotta get some pictures. I gotta … hey, ya know what? Those convention-goers are gonna be hovering over me like flies round dog shit,’ he said, then turned and pushed the up button.

Jill reached out and hit the stop button. ‘You can’t go out there, Nick,’ she told him ‘If they see you you’re dead.’ Then she pushed the down button.

‘But the Sun’s up, and I know it’s not ninty degrees out there but vampires only come out at night.’

‘This isn’t fright-night at the local drive-in, Nick, the Sun doesn’t affect them.’

He looked awe-smacked. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘An advanced super-race of vampires. Jesus, this gets better by the minute. I guess they worked out all the kinks, huh?’

‘Some of them,’ Gregg said. ‘Say, Nick, do you have a cell phone?’

‘What? You’re kidding, right?’

‘Why would I be kidding?’

‘Because with a cell phone they’d be able to trace me anywhere in the world.’

‘Who would?’

He pointed skyward and silently spelled, ‘T-H-E-M.’

Gregg looked at the roof, frowned. ‘Them?’

‘Shush,’ Nick said, giving the garage another conspiratorial once-over. ‘This government have eyes and ears in every single conceivable place you can think of.’

‘Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?’

He scoffed. ‘Phuh, you think that’s paranoid? What about Roswell, then? And what about the theory that the whole of humanity is actually under the control of shape-shifting alien reptiles that’ve been living in underwater UFO’s for the last thousand centuries?’

Gregg looked to see Jill whirling a finger beside her head. ‘Okay, Nick,’ he said, palms up. ‘Roswell I’ll grant you, but right now you need to slow down a bit because we have a little Alien shape-shifting situation of our own going on down here, and we need to get back to it.’

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘But I tend to get a little carried away whenever I get talking about this kinda stuff.’

‘That’s called passion, Nick, you’re lucky you have it.’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said. ‘So, any chance we can go see one now?’

‘See one?’

‘A vampire.’

‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘As far as we know they’re all up at the town hall, and the farther you stay away from that place the safer you’ll be.’

‘Why the town hall? Is the place full of coffins?’

‘No, Nick,’ Jill said. ‘That’s where they gather during a storm. We’ve also discovered that when they touch water it burns them, so they tend to stay indoors when it rains. But we think there’s still another one of them out here somewhere.’

‘You mean Holy water.’

She shook her head. ‘No, just plain water.’

‘Not such an advanced super-race of vampires now eh, Nick?’ Gregg said.

Nick rubbed his hands in a bid to warm them. ‘No I guess not. But what about the one you think is still out here. Can we go kill it, shove a stake through its chest so I can get my camera and take some snaps?’

‘No, we’re not here to hunt them down, if we come across one of them we’ll deal with it. But right now my main concern is saving those girls, who, as far as we’ve gathered, are being held up there as well.’ He turned and walked to the far side of the oil truck.

Nick said to Jill, ‘Do you think he’s right not killing them?’

‘Nick, there are over one hundred of them up there. Even if we wanted to we couldn’t get them all.’

When Gregg walked back from the oil truck, he dragged a heavy fan-heater across the concrete floor. He plugged it into the wall then rubbed his shoulder.

‘Let’s take another look at that,’ Jill said.

He wind-milled. ‘It’s okay, look, it feels fine.’

‘Let me see,’ she insisted, then helped remove his jacket.

Nick was at heater. ‘What happened there?’

‘One of them took a shot at me in the school across the street just now.’

Jill lifted the sleeve and Nick moved in for a look-see, but before he got close, she dropped it again. ‘It looks fine, Gregg,’ she said, her eyes wide with intent. ‘But make sure you keep your jacket on to keep the dirt out.’

‘See,’ he said, and felt the wound with his other hand. ‘Told you it…’ and that’s when Jill’s intense stare finally registered.

‘What’s wrong?’ Nick said as he dodged left and right to look over Jill’s shoulder.

Jill stayed between them. ‘Nothing, Nick, everything’s fine, just fine,’ she said.