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Andrew Roller Presents
GIRL PATROL
Chapter Twenty-Two
They called him the crazy man. Now he was the only one who was
sane. He went to the window. Someone had put a brick through it while he
lay sleeping in the next room. He slept in the day, because the creatures
he was hunting worked only at night.
Once heÕd been a hacker. HeÕd roamed the Internet looking for sexual
predators, men who liked girls who were half their age. Then heÕd learned
about something much darker. And now it was no longer lurking under the
rocks of the world, living behind iron gates in Italy or in sewers in
America. Now it was everywhere. It was bursting forth like spring, but it
was death itself, roaming and attacking at will.
Child molesters and even Arab terrorists were nothing compared to
this, John Greyson told himself. He looked at the flames burning in the
night, listened to the screams. The world had proven what heÕd always
believed, that it would go mad if it knew the truth. ThatÕs why heÕd
always worked by himself, not spreading the word as some crazies like
himself did. He went forth and found what he was looking for and killed
it, simple as that.
John Greyson turned from the shattered window. He went back into
his bedroom, to the greasy mattress lying on the litter-strewn floor. He
wasnÕt the best of housekeepers, but he had one thing no other human being
had. He opened the wooden box that he kept it in. He pulled it out. It
shone with loving care, the result of months of polishing. He prized it
more than his own life, for, even if he died, it could still live. And kill. It
was an electromagnetic gun, his own design, built with his own hands and
his knowledge of gunsmithing that heÕd learned from a correspondence
course. John turned and pointed the gun at the shattered window. He
aimed it at the night. Finding vampires would be easy tonight. They were
everywhere. They floated through the air like mist, then suddenly
attacked. The terror had begun the night before, in Sun City. By chance
John lived only 200 miles away, but before he could even learn what was
happening, the truth of it all, the terror had spread throughout the world.
The president had not helped matters. Always resolutely pro-life and pro-
church, he had abruptly called for legalized abortion and signed an
executive order closing all the churches. Just like that. It was roundly
criticized in the media, but that night the vampire attacks began, and then
people began rioting, for fun and profit in JohnÕs opinion, but it quickly
spun out of control. Then India and Pakistan decided to help things along
by suddenly launching a nuclear war over Kashmir. And China decided
Russia owed it some land, and it was time to pay up. At the same time
they declared war on Taiwan.
Not wanting to miss out on the party, the Arab nations declared war
on Israel, and Israel responded with nuclear bombs.
John Greyson went to the door of his apartment. Suddenly as he put
his hand on the doorknob, relishing how easily he would be able to find and
kill vampires tonight, it suddenly struck him. His actions would be
useless. If the vampires were everywhere, killing ten or twenty of them,
or one, as had been his score on nights in the past when he was very lucky
and actually found one, would be meaningless. There must be a cause.
Presidents didnÕt just change overnight, and based on what he knew of
vampires, they always tried to keep in the shadows. They could use mind
control, of course, but there were other less obtrusive ways of interacting
in human affairs. This was something new, and he had a gut feeling that
the mist-like vampires werenÕt part of it. He bit his lip. What could have
changed? Why would vampires who had spent centuries trying to hide
their existence from all humanity suddenly break loose and start a killing
spree? It was working, no doubt about it, but where had all these mist-
vampires come from? He had killed twelve last night, an unbelievable
record, and he knew he could get more tonight. But there was something
primal about the creatures. They didnÕt strike him as things that had
planned for centuries to make all this happen. They seemed impulsive,
like dogs.
Suddenly it hit him. There must be a master! The carnage had begun
in Sun City, hadnÕt it? The source must be there. Someone had gotten to
the president, maybe they were in Washington, now. Dammit! Where
should he go? He turned and looked at his trashed-out apartment. He
looked at the box where he kept his gun. Just minutes before he had been
joyously looking forward to a second terrific night of slaying vampires.
Now he was terrified. Should he go to Sun City, or to Washington? Where
was the master of all these mist-vampires?
John solved the problem the only way he knew how. He walked over
to his nightstand where he kept a pair of dice. He opened the drawer. He
took them out. He shook them in his hand. These dice werenÕt white, they
were red, like the blood that pulsed in his veins, the blood that vampires
needed to keep from falling into torpor, from risking a final death from
which even the undead could not return. John shook the dice in his hand.
Then he dropped them on the table.
ÒOne through six I go to Sun City, seven through twelve I go to
Washington,Ó John muttered to himself. The dice came up six. ÒAdd two
more of those and youÕve got the number of the beast,Ó John said. He put
the dice in his right trouser pocket and walked to back to the door,
checking that his gun was loaded. He opened the door. He waited, then
leapt out. Nothing, just a dark hallway. He went back inside and hefted
the heavy backpack of ammo he always carried. It slowed him down a
little, which was why heÕd checked the hall before taking it. Now, holding
his gun in one hand, he pulled it on. Then he went out, and two floors down
he met a vampire. It was one of the new mist vampires. He fired; he blew
it away with one shot and put a hole in the wall of the hall to boot.
ÒStay ready,Ó John told himself. For he knew that, in this new gone-
crazy world, where one vampire was, others were not far behind.
30
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