Exposition of the Undead, Part 1

Back in the present day, I concentrate on the backstory of the group of vampire hunters, how they were all introduced to this vampire plague.

           Hector

His friend constantly pounded on the door with both hands.  The sweat beaded down the sides of his temples.  Tension broke through his muscles as he tried to break down the basement door but to no avail.  He had to make it down there because he knew what was on the other side had to be an abomination of some kind.  For the last couple of nights, he thought something had been off.  Something menacing was wreaking havoc when ignored his friend’s warning.  He tried to prepare for what might happen next, but he shrugged it off like a stupid rant coming from a dear friend.  Let alone he was here now and what his friend had told him came true.  Oh, how we wished he could take it back calling his best friend a moron.

            The door refused to budge due to an object wedged between the basement doorframe.  This made him question only one thing, the basement was never locked from that end.  The only way one could lock it was from the back door hallway which was between the kitchen and the family room.  There was no possible way for anyone to lock it.  Unless they were something else, something sinister and wicked and not of this world keeping him from getting down there.  Someone…anyone…could have come in and installed a deadbolt from the inside out.  This thought only made the horror intensify beyond recognition. 

            He could hear the panting behind the bolted door and stormed out the back door towards the garage.  Stumbling over some boxes containing his mother’s pots and pans, and his dad’s pictures of his family, he opened his old man’s workbench.  He grabbed a saw and the crowbar, dusting off any access debris, but in this case, it wasn’t necessary and wondered why he would do such a thing.  I guess that’s how he was raised to respect other people’s property; it was something his dad instilled in him ever since grammar school. 

            Scurrying back inside his home he stopped in his tracks.  A putrid rotting smell scorched his nostrils as if inhaling battery acid.  His eyes began to tear, feeling a sense of morbid tenacity grow.  It began to grow heavy as if he couldn’t breathe.  The constant fear rattled his brains through and through.  He thought he noticed another person in the window that was stationed above the back porch, but when he shook his head, the vision subsided.  No one could be inside the house, at least he didn’t think so.  He didn’t remember if he left the front door open let alone any windows the night before.  And why would there be a person in his house?  Unless it had been one of them that his friend warned him about.  But there was no time for that now, the only important thing was to get his parents out of the basement, and fast.

            When he reached the basement door he tried using the crowbar.  Digging the point end between the door and the frame and put all of his weight into it.  The force of his body met with pushback from the other side.  Someone slammed the wooden door which made it buckle and splinter a little.  A silent laugh came from the other side and it made him furious, “You leave them alone, a*****e!  You hear me!”  But still the cackling laugh echoed and he swore whoever was behind the door was smiling with devilish intent.

            That was when he heard a window break coming from the family room.  He didn’t know what to do except to arm himself with the crowbar he had in hand.  The house became deathly silent even a pin drop would have remorse.  The sounds coming from the basement subsided as the sound of his parents and whoever held them captive downstairs barely uttered a peep.  It was almost as if time stood still, and his lungs heaved in and out sporadically.  If there was tension and fear before now it doubled in its veracity.  That putrid smell was back coming in full force as he held the crowbar as a batter would at home plate.

            He tried not to make a sound as he tiptoed into the interior of the kitchen, jutting his eyes around the corner to see if he could notice the assailant that made the noise.  Gripping the crowbar tightly, his knuckles began to pulse with anger.  Whoever it may be was going to get a crowbar across the jaw, just imagining it becoming dislodged put a smile on his face.  His footsteps were as silent as the cavernous echoes of the nothingness surrounding him.  This time it was personal, and the only thought radiating through his busy head was “I should have listened to my friend.  He knew I was in danger, and I didn’t listen.  If all this had to happen, it should have happened to me and not my parents.’

            Just as soon as the thought ended a man exploded out his adjacent bedroom.  A bunch of old high school papers came flying out behind him as well as a desk chair which was thrown against the width of the kitchen at a supernatural speed.  Whoever this was he was big, at least a foot taller with brooding shoulders, and the arms of a linebacker.  Long curled hair trailed down the sides of his contorted face and his grin was menacing in appearance.  The man wore a jacket a greaser would wear back in the day, and a solid white tee shirt stained with blood lumbered towards him.  As big as he was, his speed did not match his size and he pinned the frightened young man against the wall with a jolted-out arm.

            The other man swung the crowbar at this leviathan of a man if one would call him that.  He went for his face but just managed to hit his upper chest, the crowbar merely bouncing off it as if the intruder was made of iron.  That was when he felt his arm toss him against the room, his back landing on the oven where his mother cooked great dinners.  His back gave out as if being crushed by an unstoppable force.  The assailant hulked over to the young man and wrapped his glove-like paws around his throat.  Picking him up like was nothing but a rag doll, he dragged him over to the refrigerator and slammed him against the cold ice dispenser.  The young man let out a big ‘umph’ as he felt himself being treated nothing more than a kid throwing a tantrum for not getting what he wants.

            “You’re not going anywhere pal,” this husky assailant belted out drool cascading down his lips, “You are going to watch what we do your parents.  And then afterwards will bleed you dry.  Either you turn and become one of us, or you die.  Your choice, not mine.  It’s what she wants.”

            The young man, bruised and beaten, felt the blood trickle down his face.  His body seemed like it was pummeled by a steam truck, and this truck was not slowing down.  The assailant’s breath hovered over his face, and he could see two pearly white fangs jolting out of his mouth where his two molars should be, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.  I did nothing wrong.  Please just let my dad and mom go.  They are the only two people in my life.”

            The hulking behemoth chuckled under his foul breath.  The young man could have he swore he saw his eyes flash a reddish hue, “You honestly think we…I will let you live after what you heard.  We know who you talked to.  We know what information was said to you.  And besides, your friend killed my maker, my master.  He should have never told you what he did…and now you know too much.  For that alone, you must be punished,” his lips curled into a devastating grin, “…and anyone who you care about.”

            As if a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, he saw the monster of man grow still.  Paralysis kicked in as he saw the assailant’s eyes glaze over and turn pasty white.  Blood began to flow form his mouth as this large man began to cough and gurgle.  He looked down to the assailant’s chest and a saw piece of metal jolting out where his heart should be.  The end of metal rod came to a fine point, and the young man caught a whiff of garlic that permeated the air.  The hulking assailant came down to his knees as his grip loosened upon the young man and he felt face forward upon the linoleum floor.

            He slid down the opaque refrigerator door as he stared up at his friend.  Philip stood there, as short as he was, he never looked so tall in his lifetime.  Philip kneeled down next to his friend, hands bloody, his chest heaving up and down, his hair slackened back with sweat, his shirt torn and mangled as if someone took a knife and ripped it open, “You okay, Hector?”

            The young man named Hector smiled in relief seeing his friend smirk back at him, “Yeah…I’m okay,” Hector breathed just as heavy as his old high school friend, “I should have listened to you.  I thought you were just talking out of your a*s when you mentioned vampires…how you staked Henry in his grave…how your sister died…how you killed one in a church down on 47^th street.  It sounded like you were crazy.”

            “Let’s go save your parents, we’ll talk about it later,” Philip curled his arm around his friend’s armpit and pulled him up to his height.  Hector’s hands shook in place knowing he had to get his bearings straight.  The thought of his parents began to haunt him again.  For a while the image of them left as he stared into the eyes of the tall brooding assailant.  He thought his life was ending and for a second, he was going to take the offer, he thought maybe his parents and himself dying would make that horror go away.  But logic and reality came reeling back in when his friend guided him to the kitchen table.  Even though what just happened defied any semblance of reason.  His mind raced back and forth trying to make sense of what happened.

            Philip tossed a large duffel bag onto the table unzipping it.  Hector blindly stared at the contents inside, a hammer and mallet, a machete, four or five wooden stakes, a fire axe, two long iron stakes that looked as if they were brought from a hardware store, a string of garlic flowers possibly from a grocery store, and a single kukri blade that shined silvery like the moon pouring in from the kitchen window.  Hector canted his head towards his friend in bewilderment, still not sure whether to take him seriously or if he was just making all of this up.  Then again, he never thought he would have been ruffed up from a vampire that was the size a football player and shocked by the unknown grizzly whisper that came from the basement holding his parents’ hostage.  And for what reason?  For what his best friend since high school revealed to him?  Was it true that he knew too much already that he had to be silenced?  And why would any of this involve his parents?  At what cost?  What did any of this mean?

            “Like I said…” Philip stuttered a little as he placed one of the cast iron stakes in Hector’s palm, “They come after anyone you love and care for.  They are the first ones to die, and it plays on your mind.”

            “I never thought vampires would exist in the first place,” Hector willingly took the stake and gripped it tightly, his knuckles coming to red blisters, “I’m going down there and kill whoever this guy is.  But you must help me bust down the basement door.” 

            They both smiled at each other, Philip eagerly taking his duffle bag in his hand and wrapping it around his shoulder.  Hector and Philip stood a couple of meters down the hallway where the basement door resided.  Hector backed up and nice and slow, and Philip bent down getting into a ramming position.  Hector held up his fingers at his friend signifying a countdown.  Three fingers held up, two went down, then one, afterwards they sprinted at the door full force.  Both lunged towards the wooden barrier between them and whatever the hell was down there.  The hinge and frame buckled underneath their weight, and it loosened temporarily, “One more, buddy,” Philip groaned as they backed towards the starting position at the kitchen entranceway.  This time there wasn’t even a countdown, his best friend was in complete synchronization.  They practically vaulted this time holding nothing back, both Hector and his long-time friend charged the door.  The two hinges popped out making sounding like a magnum fired, and the frame cracked under the pressure of the two friend’s shoulders.

            Hector ignored the debris that they created and stormed down the basement stairs as if he was taking off in a jet plane.  Rushing down the steps he stopped in his tracks as he saw something not of this earth huddling over his mother.  Red bleak eyes glared back at him the moment he laid eyes on the creature.  It did not look human or even contain human traits.  Its hands were in the form of wolf’s paws, its hair stringy and unkempt, marrow dripped from his open jaw.  The thing cackled as the tall assailant from upstairs.  Philip made his way down the steps and came to his friend’s side.  That was when the creature spoke.

            “You are too late, scaredy cat,” the creature licked his lips devilishly, “Your mother is dead, and your father is next.”

            Philip’s eyes came to rest on the body passed out in the corner of the basement.  He was strewn out by the television set where he and his friend would play video games into the wee hours of night.  How many times they had snuck down here to get drunk off a six pack they brought at the gas station down the street?  All the memories they shared when Hector made him listen to bands from his father’s stereo that he was remotely interested in.  All those good times they experienced back in high school all wiped away just from what he mentioned to his friend.  His dad’s chest heaved sporadically, he could see his best friend’s father choking and gasping for air. 

            “You leave my dad alone, you sick son of a b***h!” Hector ran at the creature full force, his arm winding back into a swinging punch.  The creature rose to its full height and swatted at him like a fly.  His pawed shaped hand landed squarely in his chest sending him backwards into Philip and his friend caught him in a bear hug.  They both panted at the same time as they just waited for the creature to make its way towards them.  Their eyes came to rest on the creature’s red pools of crimson terror, one pair that was hazel, the other one brown.  Philip harrowingly whispered into his best friend’s ear, the one who always had his back and then some, “We do this together.”  He patted his friend’s hand that still carried the stake in his left hand.  Hector’s eyes wavered over to his long-time friend’s wrist only to see he was holding the machete that came from the duffle bag.

            The creature growled and barked like a ferocious blood hound and leapt towards the two young men.  Hector slid over to one side and Philip the other.  The creature as strong as the previous one might have had the strength, but he did not think things through.  Philip swung the machete at the creature’s throat as it pounced in the direction.  That gave Hector enough time to push the creature back against the concrete wall of the basement.  Even though he had to put his weight into it, he was reminded of the basement door and put all his strength into his shoulders.  Philip took another large swing at the untamed beast, this type cutting his right forearm which immediately sprouted blood from the gaping wound.

            “The heart man, go for the heart!”  Philip explained.  Without hesitation the cast iron stake in his hand felt so light as the adrenaline kicked in.  Hector’s arm cocked back as if throwing a baseball and slammed the piercing edge of stake right into the creature’s chest.  Philip took the machete and drove it into the beast’s shoulder blade where it lodged itself right into the cartilage.  He didn’t even bother to yank it out, he wanted this vampire to suffer for the mistakes he made.  Hector pushed with all his weight as he saw the iron stake disappear into the rest of his chest, barely noticing the handle anymore that he gripped tightly.

            “Die, you undead a*****e!”  Hector screamed in the vampire’s face as he saw his eyes turn the same white as the assailant upstairs.  He noticed that that whatever life this thing had before it was being expelled right before him.  Steam began to arise from the incision he made, almost feeling the iron burn his own hand as he just stood there screaming in the creature’s face.  Slowly but surely the vampire began to pant and wheeze.  Philip knew what was happening, he had seen this before.  He understood the ritual was not yet complete and he violently took out the axe from the duffle bag he tossed on the ground when he first came down the basement stairs.

            “No man, don’t!”  Hector just stood there nonchalantly, rocking back and forth as in some type of adrenaline-fueled haze.  He couldn’t see straight anymore; anger fueled his senses as hatred came over him.  His hands started to shake again, and the perspiration came in droves.  He looked like a crazed man as he turned his head towards Philip, “I have to do it, not you.”

            Philip nodded not in admiration but courage.  He handed his best friend the axe he had used twice before but he dared not tell Hector what this was going to lead to.  Hector gulped as he took the axe in both hands, his hands tightened just as with the stake.  Philip wished he could have done this for him but his friend was right, at the end we all must do what is necessary out of our own volition.  He took a step back and just stared blankly at his good friend, the one who taught him about girls when they were just freshman in high school.  He never liked this part; it was the same type of hell he went through as when he killed his sister.  It had to be done.  Hector brought the axe back and this time he waited only a split second and took one gigantic swing.  There was no need for a second, something Philip could never have done because he knew his friend was much stronger than he, and much more enraged than he would have thought. 

            The creature’s head tumbled and came to rest on the tiled floor.  Hector remembered when he was younger, he helped his dad fix the basement.  His memories of putting up the drywall, nailing the two-by-fours, making sure every tile was lain down in grammatical patterns, all disappeared when Hector peered down at the vampire’s head.  Philip noticed the disdain in his friend’s face as his eyes came to rest on his dad in the corner.  Hector ignored what he had done, and his heart grew black just even thinking about it.  They both stumbled over to his dad who was curled up into a ball.  His hands were oily, and his face appeared flush.  His eyes looked like two hollow orbs not even noticing who was here or what was going on.  He seemed to be drained.

            “Dad?”  Hector bent over his father, shaking his shoulders as if to wake him up out of a long sleep.  Philip worried, he understood something was wrong, but he had never seen anything like this before.  He tilted Hector’s dad neck to one side and noticed a big open hole with no blood escaping or pooling on the floor.  Hector’s jaw dropped, dumbstruck from what happened.  The creature lied.  He had killed him and his mother, and that is when he knew this was never going to stop.  The only person that he could trust was his friend who decided to put an arm around his shoulder.

            “I never seen anything like this.  I’m sorry.” Philip spoke quietly.  He knew his friend needed time to grieve.  He looked over his shoulder at Hector’s mother and noticed the same thing upon her neck.  This made absolutely no sense to Philip.  This was unlike what happened to his sister, Sarah.  She gradually turned into one of these things in only a matter of days.  He thought he had all the answers, but this led him into another series of questions.

            “He…or they did this deliberately.  These creatures wanted my parents to suffer.  They wanted me to suffer from what you told me.  I think they must have treated them like a couple of puppets.  Just drained them until there was nothing left.  No blood to give them life, that’s why they look so empty…so hollow,” Hector began to cry, stood up, and started to calmly walk across the basement to the stairs.

            “We must take care of their bodies.  We can’t just leave them like this.  Especially your parents.”

            Hector’s eyes darted to his friend as he waltzed up the stairs as in some maddened reverie, “What’s the point?  There is nothing here for me anymore, absolutely nothing.  You were right, I should have believed you.  You told me to be careful and I wasn’t.  You warned me and I didn’t listen.”  And he briskly walked up the steps into the kitchen and heard his friend pull out one of chairs at the kitchen table and sit.

            Philip made his way upstairs into the finely decorated kitchen that looked like a scene out of a horror movie.  Pots and pans scattered across the floor; a pile of newspapers sprawled out as if in some kind of detective scenario.  The refrigerator door had a big dent on the side and the nearby bedroom door remained wide open letting in a cool breeze from where the assailant must have broken through to crawl inside.  He sat adjacent to his friend at the table and they both sat there not saying anything for a couple of minutes.

            “Listen I know what you’re going through right now, Hector,” Philip tried to make light of the situation but dropped the cold hard truth afterwards, “But we have to dispose of the bodies.  And not just the creatures but your parents too.  We can find a place somewhere far away so no one could find them.  I did that with Sarah, and I believe…I think she might be in a better place because of it.”

            “You think?” Hector had a snarky attitude towards his friend, “I don’t think she is.  And neither are my parents.  I think what happened was my parents got tortured for what I chose to ignore and pretended it was just fantasy.  My parents paid the price for my stupidity.  What am I supposed to do now?  Just forget any of this ever happened and go back to work come Monday?”

            “No,” Philip became stern from his friend’s sarcasm, “I want you to help me.  I want…I need you to be my side in all of this.  Whatever this mystery is I want to unravel it.  I knew my sister made a deal, or a pact, or made friends with the wrong people.  I think that is why my sister started to become one of them and your parents did not.  I had to kill my sister because I knew what she was becoming.  I didn’t know at first but after what I’ve been through, I’m still learning.  I am still trying to figure out about the vampire I killed in that abandoned church.  I think, maybe, my sister made a deal with him.  Maybe he was a friend of hers from when she was younger, maybe he was once human, or they both did something to invite this curse in.  I just do not know.  That’s why I have been gone for a long time because I am still trying figure out this mystery.  I shouldn’t have told you everything but you were the only person I could trust.  I never thought anything bad would happen.”

            “Well, it did.  And now what are we going to do about it?”

            “Join me, Hector.  I can’t do this alone.  If I do you might find my name in the obituaries in the Sun Times one day.  I could use the help in tracking these things.  We can do this together and we are much stronger in numbers against those creatures down there,” Philip casually pointed towards the basement and Hector chuckled under his breath, “You are right, there is nothing left for you here.  I agree with you, so…what are we going to do?  You’re good with computers and finding out information.  You have always been a good researcher into conspiracy theories, Roswell, and all those ‘behind the scenes’ topics.  I can show you how to hunt and locate these things.  I can show you how to fight the undead and we can do it together as friends.”

            Hector looked down at the basement then back at his friend.  His arms leaned against the kitchen table and Philip caught his friend’s sly grin.  That same old look he had when he showed Philip how to ask a girl out in high school, “You know what I think?”  Philip casually smiled in his best friend’s direction, “Show me how to hunt these undead creatures, and I can find out information where they might be hiding and where they come from.  If we do this together, we can kill a hell of a lot these immortal pricks.  But what happened here tonight and what happened to you, that’s between you and me.  I don’t want anything to get out of hand, so we keep our mouths shut and our eyes wide open.  This type of hell should stay confined, and I do not want it spread out anywhere else.”  Philip nodded and shook his friend’s hand in unison.  They both agreed on whatever this darkness was would lead into a deeper mystery that could be contained and it was up to them to connect the dots.  At that very moment their friendship grew twice as strong as they both pondered on the agony they both experienced, never wishing for their trauma to ever fall into the wrong hands.