Holy Water Smackdown

Hello. Below is my short story Holy Water Smackdown for your enjoyment. It is part of a shot story collection in my book, Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations. Please feel free to leave a comment or send me an email and let me know what you think.

Holy Water Smackdown

We were in Mexico’s one of the best Mexican restaurants in San-Bernardino California. I sat across from Roxy starring at her chest. The woman had perfectly formed breasts. Roxy and I have worked together for a while now. She sat there across from me rattling on about something, but I only half-listened. My eyes took in her pretty face, her high cheekbones, and her long blonde hair. She had a slim waist that tapered down to a pair of round hips and muscular tanned legs. Her only fault is her temper. Hot dames have a short fuse. My damned cell phone rang.

“Don’t answer that. You promised me a night on the town,” Roxy said.

“I got to take it. It could be a case,” I said and then answered the phone. “Monroe’s Paranormal Investigations.”

“Mr. Monroe, this is Officer Daniels in Barstow. I have a situation and I was told you might be able to help,” the man said over the phone.

“What exactly do you have?”

“I am at the scene of a homicide. The body has two puncture wounds on the neck and all of the blood has been drained.”

“We’re on our way,” I said.

“The crime scene is in the parking lot of Paradise Lanes, a local bowling alley.”

“We’ll find it,” I said and then cut the connection.

“What?” Roxy asked.

“We’ve got a vamp working up on the high desert. Finish your meal doll face.” I motioned to the waiter for the check.

“Great,” she said tossing back her golden locks. I waited while she finished eating. The waiter brought my check and I handed him my credit card. They wouldn’t take my card and Roxy had to pay. Boy was she pissed. She stormed out to the car and I followed admiring her shapely ass along the way.

“Take a picture pervert!” she said over her shoulder.

A big grin crossed my face. “I would but I don’t have a camera. Let’s stop at my place for the gear,” I said opening the passenger door.

“Whatever,” She said. She climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door. I climbed behind the wheel of my black 1984 5.0 Mustang. Firing up the beast, I backed out of the parking lot, turned left on Highland Avenue, and mashed my foot down on the accelerator. We took the 215 freeway north. I pulled off the freeway at Devore, a rural community where most of the people owned horses, and headed down the frontage road to the KOA campground. I am a perpetual camper. Sliding to a stop, I parked next to my RV, jumped out of the car, and ran to my motor home.

Inside my RV, Roxy went into my bedroom to change. She left the door open. When she stripped out of her clothes, I looked up in time to see her standing there in nothing but a pair of blue panties. My heart stopped and my bottom jaw sagged.

“You’re such a pervert,” she said cupping her large breast with her hands. That woman drives me crazy, I thought as she slammed the door.

She came out wearing a pair of cargo pants, a black sweater, and a pair of combat boots. Outside, I threw the gear bag into the trunk of the Mustang and we rolled out. Hitting the freeway, we headed north toward the Cajon Pass. After topping out the pass, we rolled through the city of Victorville at over one hundred miles an hour. Thirty-five miles north of Victorville, we pulled into Barstow, the main pit stop on the way to Las Vegas Nevada.

Taking the L Street exit, I turned left and then took a right onto Main Street. We cruised east passing a Chevron station, a Holladay Inn, and a few businesses. The police had the entrance to Paradise Lanes blocked off with crime scene tape. I showed them my ID and they let us through. After parking the Mustang, we jumped out and headed over to where the police knelt over the body.

“Which one of you is Daniels?” I asked.

An older man with gray hair looked up. “That’s me. You’re Monroe?”

“Yeah, I’m Mike Monroe. This is my partner, Roxanne Delaney.” We squatted down to look at the body.

“You do know what we have here, don’t you?” I said to Daniels.

“Yeah. Some nut job that thinks he’s a vampire.”

“Maybe.” I noticed a syringe lying next to the body. The victim had a medical alert bracelet on her wrist. “What’s this poor woman’s name?” I asked.

“Chambers. Mrs. Catherine Chambers,” Daniels said.

“It appears that Mrs. Chambers was a diabetic.”

“What of it?” Daniels asked.

“Have you had any break-ins where medical supplies were stolen?”

The other detective, a younger man with short blond hair, looked up. “We did have that burglary at Croals on William Street last night.”

“What did they take?” I asked.

“A lot of syringes and a shit load of insulin.”

“What are you thinking? That this murder and that break-in are connected?” Daniels asked.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you believe this vampire shit? This is just some shit bird that thinks he’s a vampire,” Daniels said.

“Maybe, or it could be a sick fucking vampire,” I said.

“You don’t believe that do you?”

“You called me, remember?” Daniels let out a sigh and then lit a cigarette.

“We’ve got the perp on tape. He’s a scary son of a bitch,” Daniels said and then looked at his partner. “Parker. We’re done here. Have the medical people bag her and tag her. Take her to the morgue. I’m going to show Monroe the tape.”

“We’ll know for sure in twenty-four hours. If Mrs. Chambers doesn’t join the ranks of the undead, then you’re right. We have a sick wannabe vampire. If not, then we have a whole different ballgame. We’ll be ready in either case,” I said.

Daniels let out another sigh. “Vampires. What next?”

“If Mr. personality only knew,” Roxy said under her breath.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. He’s just doing his job.”

“Yeah, but if he only knew what we’ve seen,” Roxy said.

“That’s the point. He doesn’t know.” My mind flashed back to that time in Haiti in the Tombs of the undead. I’ve been afraid of tunnels ever since. Daniels led us into the manager’s office.

“Show him the tape,” Daniels said to a stocky young man sitting behind a wooden desk. “After that, we’ll need the tape as evidence.”

“It’s your show.” He handed Daniels the security tape and Daniels popped it into a VCR underneath a TV monitor across the room. The image of the parking lot filled the screen. The tape showed a few cars leaving the parking lot and then Mrs. Chambers walking to her Beamer. A black pickup truck that looked like the only thing holding it together was rust and baling wire pulled up behind her.

“What’s that? A forty-eight or forty-nine Ford?” I asked.

“It looks like a forty-eight. My granddaddy had one like that, only his was in better shape,” Roxy said. A figure stepped out of the truck and my blood turned to ice. He looked like a walking corpse. His skin was pasty white; bits and pieces of flesh had peeled away from his face revealing bloody legions of exposed bone. He wore a set of bib overalls and a white tee-shirt. Puss oozed from the open sores covering his face and arms. I saw maggots moving about underneath his skin.

“That dude looks more dead than un, if you know what I mean,” I said. The tall apparition pulled a maggot from the side of his face, tossed it into his mouth, and then attacked the woman. Mrs. Chambers must have heard something because she turned at the last minute and threw up her hands. The vamp threw her up against the car, slammed a fist into her face, and then lowered his gaping maw to her throat. Mrs. Chambers struggled, slamming her fists against the creature’s chest. Her struggles lessened, her feet kicked, and then she went limp. The vampire continued to suck.

“Talk about a hickey,” I said. Roxy elbowed me to the ribs.

“Have a little respect for the deceased,” Daniels said giving me a dirty look. The vamp threw the woman to the ground, rummaged through her car, and then took her purse. He climbed back into his pickup and drove away.

“What do you think?” Daniels asked.

“If we don’t catch this guy, this town is in a world of shit,” I said.

“Tell me about it,” Daniels said.

“You won’t find this guy in town. He’ll be hiding in the outlying areas. Maybe in an abandoned house or warehouse somewhere. He comes into town to feed.”

“That’s great. It’s a big desert out there. There must be a thousand places he could hide. When you consider the surrounding communities of Hinkley, Daggett, and Yermo, there must be hundreds of abandoned houses or trailers.”

“My partner and I will start looking in the morning. Tomorrow I want to talk to the people at the drug store. Maybe they caught this guy on tape there also.”

“You still think that’s connected?”

“Maybe. Call it a hunch,” I said.

“Do you guys have a good hotel in town? I’m beat,” Roxy said and then yawned.

Daniels smiled. “I’d go with the Holliday Inn on West Main Street.”

“Are we through here?” I asked Daniels.

“For tonight. Let me give you a police radio.” He handed me his business card. “That’s got my number at headquarters and my cell phone number.” On the way to the parking lot, Daniels handed me his police radio and showed me which channel to use. I thanked him and then we climbed into the Mustang and headed west on Main Street. Inside the Mustang, I looked at Roxy and rolled my eyes.

“Don’t get any ideas, pervert. When we get to the hotel, I intend to get some sleep.”

“That’s just my luck,” I said and then laughed.

At the Holliday Inn, we piled out of the Mustang and headed to the hotel lobby. Roxy strutted along in front of me her boot heels clicking against the blacktop. My eyes dropped to her shapely ass. The sight reminded me of two alley cats fighting in a gunnysack. I’d like to bite onto one of those honey buns and pray for lockjaw, I thought following along behind her. I heard the squeal of steel wheels and the sound of railroad cars slamming together. The BNSF rail yard lay north of the hotel. I hope these rooms are soundproof, I thought. In the hotel lobby, Roxy strutted up to the counter.

“We need a couple of rooms for the night,” I said.

“We only have one room available. They’re having an off-road race south of town. Everything’s booked up,” a small Asian woman standing behind the counter said.

“I don’t suppose it has two beds?” Roxy asked.

“No just one Queen size,” the woman said.

“We could try somewhere else,” I said.

“No, I’m bushed. You just keep your hands to yourself,” Roxy said and then sighed.

“You know me, the original Boy Scout. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want,” I said.

“No. You need your rest too,” she said, but this time in a much softer tone. She handed me my room key and then headed up to the room. I went back to the car for our gear. After retrieving our gear, I rode the elevator up to the room and let myself in. I heard the shower running. Stripping out of my clothes, I put on a pair of black sweat pants. Roxy came out of the shower wearing a dark blue nightshirt. Her wet hair hung down her back and she smelled of soap. The fabric of her nightshirt clung to her bosom clearly outlining her hard nipples. God, she was a sight.

“Don’t get any ideas, lover boy. I’m going to sleep,” Roxy said.

I pulled the covers aside. “By all means. Don’t let me keep you.”

She crawled in beside me; I pulled the covers over us and turned off the light. We chatted for a few minutes; I rolled onto my side and touched her left breast. After receiving an elbow to my side for my trouble, I rolled over and went to sleep. Sometime during the wee hours of the morning, she woke up pressed her body up against mine, the nightclothes came off and we made love.

***

I woke up the next morning with my arm underneath Roxy’s body and my hand on her breast. Her bottom lay nestled up against me. She opened her eyes, removed my hand, and then jumped out of bed. I watched her nude form as she hurried across the floor to the bathroom and disappeared from view. The water in the shower started to run. She came out of the shower a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around her body and another wrapped around her head.

“About last night,” I said.

“Don’t let it go to your head. Get into the shower. We’ve got work to do,” Roxy said.

I took my turn in the shower and the hot water felt invigorating. Roxy sat on the bed brushing her hair.

“What do you say to breakfast across the street at Bun Boy?” I asked after stepping out of the shower.

“As long as you’re buying.”

I got dressed; we rode the elevator down to the lobby and then crossed the street. After filling up on pancakes, a side of bacon, and several cups of coffee, I called Daniels. He said that the security tape from the break-in at the drugstore was at the police station, so after breakfast, we headed to the cop shop. After viewing, the tape from the break-in, there was no doubt. He reminded me of Uncle Fester from the Adams family.

“What are your plans?” Daniels asked.

“I have some stops to make, but I thought we’d cruise the desert. Maybe we can catch this creep napping,” I said.

“We have sheriff deputies out there now.”

“Like, you said, it’s a big desert. If they find anything call me on my cell,” I said.

We headed to Stator Brothers and I bought a five-pound bag of sugar. From Stators, I headed to the nearest Catholic Church and conned them out of a gallon of holy water. From the church, we crossed town and headed west on old highway 58.

“I got one more stop to make,” I said and then pulled through the chain-link gates and into the parking lot of McCoy’s Feed store.

“What now?” Roxy asked.

“Just something I think we might need,” I said. Back on the road, we headed toward Hinkley, a little town that had a brief moment of fame from a movie called Erin Brockovich. Back in the eighties, the PG&E power company poisoned the groundwater with Chromium-6. Now they wanted to put a waste composting facility out here. These people just can’t win, I thought. Who’d want to live in this shit hole?

When we reached Hinkley Road, I turned left, passed an elementary school, and headed north. Turning left on Burnt Tree Road, we headed out into the desert. We spent most of the day cruising the desert. It was only March, but the weather was already warm and a bit windy. On the high desert of Southern California, there are three seasons: summer, winter, and wind. The wind blows almost every day, but between April and June, it’s like a wind tunnel sometimes.

After cruising the desert but finding no snoozing vampire, we headed east on interstate 15 and searched the desert near Daggett and Yermo. Roxy made me stop to help a desert tortoise across the road. I warned her that I could face a big fine and do jail time for messing with those turtles, but she just told me to blow it out my backside.

When the sun went down, we headed into Barstow. I bought dinner at the Idle Spurs Steak House. After dinning on a juicy steak and a succulent baked potato, we cruised the town waiting for something to happen. I called Daniels to see if any of the sheriff’s deputies had found anything on the desert. He told me that they had moved Mrs. Chambers’ body to the local funeral home. I arranged a meeting at the mortuary at midnight. I asked Daniels to contact the owner so we could view the body.

“Is that necessary?” Daniels asked over the phone.

“We’ll find out later tonight. I think that after that, you’ll be a believer,” I said.

Roxy and I headed back to the hotel and I got our gear ready. At eleven-thirty PM. We rolled out of the Holliday Inn and headed east on Main Street. Turning left on First Street, we passed a doughnut shop and a bar called Who’z, on First. Crossing a metal bridge that spanned the rail yard and then another bridge that crossed the Mojave River, we turned left on Fort Irwin Road. After stopping at a four-way stop and we continued north toward the outskirts of town. The mortuary set on the left side of the road, across the street from the graveyard. Daniels sat in his unmarked blue sedan when we pulled into the parking lot. He climbed out of his car and lit a cigarette.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” he asked.

“We’ll find out in a few minutes,” I said taking a black nylon gym bag from the trunk of the Mustang.

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” Roxy said taking my arm. We ambled across the parking lot to the mortuary. The glass doors opened and a chill went down my spine. I looked into the chalky white face of a tall man wearing a black suit. I thought it was our vamp. The funeral director was a scary dude who looked like Vincent Price.

“This is highly irregular,” the funeral director said.

“Humor us, Mr. Kramer. We’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Daniels said.

Kramer shrugged. “Let’s get this nonsense over with then.” He retreated into the Bowels of the mortuary and we followed along behind. He led us down a hallway and through a side door passing several caskets as we crossed the room. Chills shot down my spine when I passed the coffins. I kept expecting one of them to open. Kramer led us through a door and down another hallway. He opened a door to a back room and stepped inside. I felt a cold chill, this time, from the cold frigid air. Roxy’s nipples pressed against the fabric of her t-shirt. She caught the direction of my glance and gave me the look.

“This is our cold storage. We keep the bodies here until we’re ready to prepare them for burial,” Kramer said. He crossed the room to a row of metal drawers setting against the wall and slid open a drawer revealing a body covered with a thin white sheet. The body of Mrs. Chambers lay on the steel slab. I pulled the sheet away to reveal the face. She looked deader than a can of corn beef cabbage. Pulling a wooden stake and a mallet from the gym bag, I handed them both to Roxy.

“Great. I have to do the dirty work?” she said.

“Just hand them to me when I need them,” I said and then took out a crucifix. I pulled the sheet away from Mrs. Chamber’s chest.

“There’s no need to be crude,” Kramer said.

Placing the crucifix between Mrs. Chambers’ breasts, I watched her skin sizzle and smoke.

“What the hell?” Daniels said stepping back. Mrs. Chambers’ eyes shot open and she let out a shriek. She grabbed my throat and I looked into her dark feral eyes.

“The mallet! Give me the mallet!” I croaked. Mrs. Chambers screamed obstinacies and flung the crucifix across the room. It bounced off the wall.

“Do the bitch!” Roxy yelled tossing me the wooden stake and the mallet. Daniels jumped away from the body. I pushed the late Mrs. Chambers down on the slab and placed the wooden stake between her breasts. She clung to my throat, my vision turned fuzzy, and I brought the hammer down on top of the stake driving it into her heart. Blood, shot out of her chest, splattering against my face, and hit the ceiling. Mrs. Chambers screamed and then died, this time for good. Kramer stood watching.

“It looks like you’ve seen this kind of thing before,” I said to Kramer.

“Once or twice. I prefer it when the bodies stay dead.”

Daniels looked like Casper the Friendly Ghost. “I need a cigarette. Hell. I need a six-pack and a bottle of Jim Beam.”

“The first time is always the worst,” I said to Daniels. Leaving Kramer to clean up the mess, we swaggered out to the parking lot. The radio in Daniels unmarked sedan squawked.

“This is dispatch to car thirty-four. Come in detective Daniels.”

Daniels opened the door and grabbed the radio’s handset. “This is Daniels.”

“There has been another murder. It has the same MO as the one at the bowling alley.” We stepped closer to listen. Roxy crossed her arms underneath her breasts.

“Where at?” Daniels asked.

“At Molly’s Pub on Main Street. The perp was last seen heading west on Main Street in a black forty-eight Ford pickup.”

“I’ll be right there,” Daniels said.

“We’ll be right behind you,” I said.

Daniels climbed into his sedan and Roxy and I headed to my Mustang. I fired up the beast and followed Daniels out of the parking lot. We headed south on Fort Irwin Road, blowing the stop sign at Old Highway 58, and continued south. Daniels had his reds flashing and his siren blaring. I kept the Mustang on his ass. We passed a Mexican restaurant and a low rent apartment complex as the road curved and intersected with First Street. Daniels tapped his brakes and turned right heading into town. We were on the metal bridge spanning the rail yard when an old black Ford pickup truck flew past us heading in the opposite direction.

I had no room to turn around on the metal bridge, but once the Mustang crossed the south side of the bridge, I flipped a bitch and mashed my foot down on the accelerator. Daniels did the same thing. Patrons at the Dell Taco on the east side of the street starred out the window wondering what the commotion was. The pickup had already crossed the bridge and was heading north. The vamp might have been undead, but the engine in his truck was alive and healthy. The Mustang roared and the speedometer shot up to ninety miles an hour.

The vamp slid around the corner onto Fort Irwin Road and we stayed on his ass. He led us back the way we came, passing the mortuary and the graveyard then slammed on his brakes and turned left on a dirt road heading out into the desert. I called Daniels on the radio.

“Where’s he going?” I asked.

“He’s heading toward an area known as Copper City!” Daniels said.

“What’s there?” I asked as we bounced over the dirt road.

“A few people outlive there! It’s mostly abandoned! There are a few abandoned mining claims! Stay on his ass! I got back up on the way!” Daniels yelled over the radio.

“Roger that,” I said tossing the radio into Roxy’s lap. “Take the wheel.” She looked at me like if I was crazy. “Take the wheel!” She crossed over me and I moved underneath her. At one point, her shapely bottom was in my face. The Mustang hit a bump and she fell into my lap. My hand found her right breast.

“Watch it buster!” she said jamming an elbow into my ribcage.

“Sorry,” I said and then slid into the passenger seat. The old Ford pulled away. She mashed her foot down on the accelerator causing the Mustang to lurch forward. Turning around, I pulled my AR-15 from my gear bag. I rolled down the window, leaned out, and fired several rounds into the back of the pickup.

“When in doubt, empty the magazine!” I yelled. Dropping out the empty magazine, I slapped in a fresh one and fired several more rounds into the back of the pickup truck. The truck swerved back and forth and then took a dirt road heading north. The old Ford slid to a stop in front of a stone cabin. I slammed on my brakes. An apparition jumped from the pickup truck and ran across the desert toward the cabin. Daniels car slid to a stop behind mine. I jumped out of the car with my rifle in hand and Daniels jumped out of his sedan with a pump-action shotgun.

“Hold it, boys! Let the testosterone level drop a notch or two! If we go in there like this, we don’t stand a chance,” Roxy said when she climbed out of the Mustang.

I heaved a sigh. “She’s right. We’re dealing with the supernatural. We’ll have a better chance at daybreak.”

“You want us to sit on our hands until sunrise?” Daniels protested.

“When your people get here, set up a perimeter. Daylight is only a few hours away,” I said. The city police and several sheriff deputies arrived a short while later. Roxy and I took a stroll down by the cabin checking for hidden exits. After the Po Pos had the perimeter set up, we headed back to the Mustang.

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?” Roxy asked.

“For not letting me go off half-cocked.”

“What are partners for?” she said and then leaned over and kissed me. We sat talking until a purple haze appeared in the east and fingers of sunlight stabbed across the Mojave Desert. When we exited the vehicle, Daniels swaggered over.

“Are you ready now?” Daniels asked. “I’ve got SWAT sitting on go.”

I let out another sigh. “This is what you hired us for. If you go in there like gangbusters, you’ll only get a lot of people killed,” I said.

“What are we supposed to do? That son of a bitch killed two citizens!” Daniels protested.

“Let us go in first. It’s what you’re paying us for. If we’re not back in an hour, then bring in your boys.”

Daniels lit a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you,” Roxy said.

“You’ve got one hour.”

I retrieved our gear, handed Roxy a paintball gun, and took one for myself.

“What good are, those things going to do?” Daniels asked. A smirk crossed his face.

“You can’t kill these guys with conventional weapons,” I said.

“You were damned conventional last night with that AR-15.”

I shrugged. “Last night I was shooting at a pickup truck. Today I’m killing a vampire.” Carrying our gear bag, Roxy and I headed toward the stone cabin.

“I’ll take, point,” I said.

“So predictable. Such a macho pig.” Roxy said.

“But you love me anyway,” I said and then kicked the door of the stone cabin. The front door banged open. Dirt and beer cans littered the floor and in the center of the room set a pine box. It looked like the kind the county used to burry people in a paupers grave. Across the room, I saw a wooden door leading to who knows where.

“This boy seems low rent,” I said moving toward the wooden box.

“He’s not as sophisticated as some of the ones we’ve killed,” Roxy said.

I grabbed a wooden stake and the mallet and then opened the pine box. My heart raced and my breathing came in short little gasps. The lid squeaked open. The undead figure lying in his coffin looked more hideous than he did on the security tape. Maggots crawled in and out of the sores on his face. The putrid smell made me gag when I placed the point of the stake on his chest.

The vamp shot out of the coffin knocking me on my ass. He hovered near the ceiling and then descended to the floor. I rose to my feet grabbing my paintball gun.

“What are you gonna do? Paint me to death?” the vamp asked. His voice sounded raspy and his breath came out wheezy.

“Everything is not always as it appears,” I said.

“You call yourself a hunter? I smell fear. It is all over you.”

“There’s no fear here, pops,” I said, even though I felt like I was going to piss my pants. “You don’t smell too good yourself.” The vamp moved toward me. We raised our paintball guns.

“I’ll gut you so you can live long enough for you to watch me drain your woman’s blood. She’ll be mine for eternity.”

“Eternity hell. Bell Lugosi, you’re not. What have you got, aids or something?”I asked.

The vamp crept closer. “Some time ago, I got hold of some bad blood.”

“Enough of this. Your breath smells like dog shit,” I said.

“I’ll kill you slowly, then rape your woman before I bleed her.” The vamp said.

“Oh shut up. What are you going to do, Mike? Talk him to death?” Roxy asked.

“What we are about to have here, is a holy water smackdown,” I said and then we opened up with our paintball guns. I had drained the paint out of the paintballs earlier and filled them with holy water. When the plastic balls filled with holy water hit the vamp’s skin, they burned through to the bone. His skin sizzled and smoke rose from a dozen places. The smelly vampire bounced around the room like a chimpanzee on crack. He shot up to the ceiling and bounced off the walls trying to stay out of the line of fire. He let out a hiss and a foul-smelling odor filled the room. We stood with our paintball guns pointed at the creature clinging to the ceiling. The vampire landed on Roxy knocking her to the ground. He clawed at her shirt ripping it to shreds. She let out a scream as the vamp lowered his mouth to her throat. I lunged forward and grabbed the vamp by the hair on the back of his head.

“Take this you shit bag!” I yelled and slammed a crucifix to the side of his neck. The skin under the crucifix sizzled and maggots jumped off his neck. He knocked me over backward and then crashed through the wooden door to the left of the coffin. Roxy stumbled to her feet oblivious to the fact that her breasts were bare. Oblivious that is until she caught me staring.

“God Mike, you’re such a pig,” she said.

“Let’s go,” I said diverting my eyes. We moved to the wooden door and I flung it open. The door led to what I thought was a cellar, but when we reached the bottom of a set of stone steps, I looked down a long tunnel. A tunnel. Why does it have to be a tunnel? I thought.

“Are you okay with this?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” Fumbling with my gear bag, I took out a flashlight and tossed it to Roxy. “Let’s get this son of a bitch,” I said taking out another flashlight for myself. When I stepped off into the darkness, a cold breeze blew a foul odor toward us. “He’s down here.”

“I hope this tunnel dead-ends soon. If it splits off into different directions, we could lose him,” Roxy whispered. I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was as scared as I was. Her shadow displayed against the sidewall of the tunnel distracted me. Her breasts bounced up and down causing her shadow woman to do the same. Of course, she caught me looking. The tunnel ended two hundred yards in. The vamp lay on a large rock wheezing and coughing. We opened up with the pint ball guns. The vamp let out a shriek attacking Roxy again. It knocked her over backward and clawed at her throat. I grabbed a horse syringe out of the gym bag and then jumped on the vampire’s back. Sticking the needle in the vampire’s neck, I pushed the plunger. He let out a blood-curdling scream, stumbled to his feet, took a few steps, and then collapsed. I helped Roxy up. She stood clinging to my arm.

“What did you give him?” she asked.

“My version of a Beijing Cocktail. He’s diabetic. I filled that syringe with sugar and holy water,” I said. Bending down, I grabbed the mallet and a wooden stake. The vampire’s skin began to smoke.

“So he’s in a diabetic coma? How do you think of these things, Mike?”

“It just comes to me, darling. Most of the time it comes down to the basics,” I said placing the wooden stake against the vampire’s chest.

“Just do it and let’s get out of here,” Roxy said.

“Case closed,” I said and drove the stake through the vampire’s heart.

***

For my author friends if you have a short story that you would like to share, please send it to me. Copy and paste it into an email and I will post it on my blog for a week and give you a shout out. Don’t forget to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Mail to: dhdonaghe@earthlink.net

https://www.amazon.com/Monroes-Paranormal-Investigations-David-Donaghe-ebook/dp/B086BF5D3C/ref=sr_1_17?dchild=1&keywords=David+Donaghe&qid=1634328750&sr=8-17

About David Donaghe (Author of Thunder Road)

Hi. I work and live in the high desert of Southern California with my wife and family. I have three passions in life:reading, writing and riding my motorcycle. I have a short story collection, Monroe's Paranormal Investigations on sale now at Amazon.com and on the Barns and Noble webpage. My novel, The Tale spinner is coming out soon, published by Otherworld Publications.
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