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Andrew Roller Presents
GIRL PATROL
Chapter Twenty-Four
He was sick. He felt like retching but tried to hold back the urge.
Then it overcame him and he vomited on the floor. He gripped his gun. He
had the most powerful light weapon in the world, but he was dying.
John Greyson expelled the last of his vomit. He remained bent over
for a minute, steadying himself, recovering. His breath came in pants and
then more slowly. He looked at his electromagnetic gun. Someone else
might have patented it, gotten wealthy off of it, but John had been afraid
the vampires would get hold of it. That was the problem the white man
faced on the frontier, subduing the Indians. Somebody sold them rifles.
But there hadnÕt been enough time for things like patents, John said
to himself, standing up straight now, putting a hand on his stomach. That
process took years. His gun was only months old. Still, it might have been
rushed into production if the government truly believed there were
vampires out there, in the night, sucking blood off the human race. But
everyone thought John was crazy already, without him running around to
various government offices trying to convince them there were vampires.
John hefted the gun in his hand. It was heavy. He grabbed it with his other
hand to keep from having it teeter forward and out of his grip.
ÒWouldnÕt the army have loved you, though?Ó he told himself. That
had been his greatest fear, that the government would never use the gun
against vampires, because it wouldnÕt believe they existed. But it would
use the gun to kill human beings. And then the Russian mafia would get it,
and they would go on a killing spree, and the Columbians, and pretty soon
the world would just have one more way of killing off the only thing that
could keep back the night. Humans. Now they were dying in droves. The
vampires had won. The whole planet was dying, except for the vampires,
because they were immune.
John coughed. He rummaged in his pocket. He took out a bottle of
pills. HeÕd done a little chemistry, trying to find ways to stave off the
vampiresÕ bite, if he should be so unlucky to succumb. He looked around
himself. Then he slung his gun over his shoulder. He rocked a little on his
feet from the gunÕs weight, steadied himself again, then unscrewed the
cap from the bottle. He looked at the pills heÕd made.
ÒCan you protect me from radiation, hmmm?Ó John asked the little
pink pills. ÒI doubt it, but what the Hell.Ó John tossed several pills into
his mouth. He grimaced. Taste hadnÕt been his highest priority in making
them. He grabbed his canteen and got the top off. He swallowed, hard and
fast. He grimaced again and put the cap back on the canteen, then on the
bottle of pills and put them back in his pocket. ÒWeÕll see,Ó he muttered.
But he guessed heÕd be dead soon.
John walked down the street. He passed a burnt-out car. He headed
toward the rented garage where he kept his motorcycle. It gave John a
strange sudden exhilaration to realize he was probably a walking corpse.
Just the vampires. He still lived and breathed, but with the radiation from
the nuclear bombs in him now, he knew his pills couldnÕt save him. And
what was he going against? Something new, something much more
powerful, he guessed, than any vampire heÕd ever faced before. He was
suddenly 12 again, playing Dark Castle, except now the game was not only
real, as heÕd made it on previous evenings, he was going up against the
head honcho, the Black Knight. HeÕd finally made it through all the little
demons hiding in the castle, killed them all. This was the showdown.
John was about to reach for the lock on the front of the garage
where he kept his bike when he suddenly realized that the clinging mist on
the garage door wasnÕt benign. Before he could even react, a figure had
materialized from it. The thing had long fingers, with long fingernails.
Claws, really, that scraped JohnÕs bare forearm and drew blood. John
screamed. He saw fangs. He reached for his gun but it was slung over his
back. The creature was too close. John twisted, he reached for the only
other thing he had. Actually he had a whole beltful of them, but one, just
one, grabbed and stabbed, would do. John managed to yank it up from the
special belt loop heÕd made for it. He jerked it forward. The creature
screamed. ItÕs mouth held suddenly wide in a shattered attempt to bite
him, the creature fell to the ground. It became more solid, then suddenly
human. For a fleeting second it was once again whoever it had been before
it became a vampire. Then the aging process set in. Worms appeared in
the creatures nostrils. Leeches burst from its forehead. Flies buzzed up
as if from nowhere. In fact, the process of death had been going on all
along, but somehow supernaturally unavailable to things in this world, as
if taking place in a parallel universe. Now the death burst forth, and
without even grave dirt around it, the creature succumbed to the ages. It
began to stink, horribly. John turned his head away. HeÕd never liked the
smell of rotten eggs and this thing was eggs times three, at least. Then
JohnÕs stomach, suitably aroused, decided to join the action. John threw
up. He vomited right into the vampireÕs face, and it gave him a certain
awkward glee to see himself doing it, even as he tried to stop himself.
There! Take that, foul figure of death! HereÕs some food for all your
leaches.
30
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