Claude had insisted on driving the car the provided, an over-powered muscle car that looked more suited to high speed chases and quick get aways. He had denied it of course.
"If you're involved in a high speed chase then something has gone very badly wrong," he said. "Which means it wasn't planned well."
I had grinned as disarmingly as possible. "The plan is usually go meet the dude, get the thing, deliver the thing and hit the bar."
We had met in the meeting room and the other guys were more than a little nervous about Claude. They had met him before, usually in passing, but seemed suspicious that he was human and knew we were all vampires and yet was somehow not trying to kill anyone. I'd tried to assure them that he wasn't psychotic or even had any interest in killing vampires, but they were a hard sell.
"This is the last job, am I right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"That's the one that usually goes wrong. The others are just to test you. This is the one that really counts."
"You do this kind of thing a lot?" Benjamin wanted to know.
"I've had some... experiences, but if you note, I'm still around." They didn't look too convinced and Claude rolled his eyes. "It's not exactly the kind of profession where having a resume comes in useful, okay? If I had a resume it would be a rap sheet and that means that I'd been caught a whole bunch of times. I'm the guy who always gets away."
Benjamin wasn't buying it. "Yea, but if you get away, that means the other guys got caught."
Claude grinned confidently and clapped him on the shoulder. "Only if they didn't listen to me."
"So what's the job this time?" I asked Frankie, and he nodded his agreement to Claude coming along.
***
No one knows how old Jesus Delgado was, but as far as they were concerned he had always been around, to the point where he had become something of a legend even among the vampires, especially to those who had never met the man. He had been a connecting figure with vampires around the continent, especially in a time when vampires weren't as well connected. He carried news, stories, letters and some secrets around with him. Sometimes he had been known to transport other live cargo, but his main value was that he was the only one that the far flung vampire families could trust, so that made him the best negotiator. When Harry saw the growth of the cities, it had been Jesus who had carried the invitations to the other families and to some of the more remote vampires in outlying towns. He was the one who let other vampires know that they were not alone in the world and that times were changing. He was the reminder that they so desperately needed.
As the cities grew, his role had changed, but he had remained a Gypsy of sorts, always on the road. First in his covered wagon across the plains, the only one that travelled at night ad struck fear into the hearts of all who encountered him. Some said he was a vengeful spirit or some murderous lunatic, after all, who but a madman would dare to drive his horses at night? They said he had guards for the daytime while he rested, but the fact is that he was one of the early tinkers that frontier towns depended on for pots and pans and news from afar. It was how he got around in plain sight.
Civilization changed, expanded and grew, the roads and highways springing up to connect the cities, and Jesus changed to suite, trading in his horses and wagon for a truck and eventually to a caravan. Whatever it was, he just kept on travelling the roads, being the connection in his ever changing home on wheels. In the last twenty years he had bought himself a highly customized winnebago, nothing that wouldn't look out of place in any trailer park around the country and in a time of constant communication he actually became more elusive and harder to find. There were rumors that he sold all manner of drugs or trafficked in girls or depending on the part of the country, transported immigrants across the borders, but those kinds of stories always exist wherever there is a questionable character. The important thing was that wherever he showed up and parked his winnebago, whether for a night or for a month, he had a whole host of people who were willing to take up arms to defend him and make sure nobody brought harm to the one person who connected them all. While he was there, people brought their questions or problems and he mediated for a while.
***
"So long story short, he's got a bunch of true believers who will shoot our asses if anything goes wrong."
"Something like that I guess. Harry didn't seem to keen on going there himself though. I don't think they like vampires very much."
"Hate to tell ya this but I count three vampires here right now. You sure Harry isn't just trying to knock off you guys without getting his hands dirty?"
We'd all exchanged nervous looks.
"The thought had crossed our minds..."
"Too many questions. What are we picking up? Wait: let me guess. Harry didn't say what it was, just that his guy Jesus is supposed to know. Am I right?"
Frankie had nodded cautiously. It exactly opposite the answer Claude had wanted.
"You guys are being sent to your deaths. I just want you to know that. I've never seen a situation like this turn out well, but I can sure as shit recognize the signs of a setup."
"Do you have something in mind then? Preferably something that doesn't get us killed."
Claude grinned, ready to tell us his plan. "So here's what we're going to do..."
***
Don't you hate it in the movies when someone says something dramatic and then they suddenly cut to the next scene without ever revealing whatever ludicrous thing was about to be discussed?
Surprise!
Oh come on, if I told you the details of the plan then you'd have a chance to think how silly it was and then you'd get all distracted with stead of focusing on what we were doing and how clever we were being. This way is a lot more fun, so stay with me on this, okay? That's right, ignore the man behind the curtain...
***
Somehow or the other, Claude talked me into walking into the middle of the trailer park, my hands raised so everyone could see how empty they were. He had provided a bluetooth headset so he and I could talk freely, but the piece de resistance was the set of 80's looking glasses that he had made me shove onto my face. Apparently there was a camera mounted in the glasses and it transmitted everything I saw right back to Claude. I was literally going to be Claude's puppet, saying only what he wanted me to say since he didn't trust me to not get my ass shot within one minute of talking.
"You're a bit of an asshole Bob," he'd said.
"Fuck you buddy. Fuck you very much," I'd responded knowing that he was dead right.
Entering the camp was the easy part. It looked like any other trailer park around the country, trailers of all sizes spread out evenly around the ad-hoc street system they had set up to make it feel more like a neighbourhood. Some of the trailers looked like they had never had a single trip outside of the one that had brought the trailer to its lot; most had taken up permanent residence on the top of different arrangements of a brick base. The 'fancier' ones had a full cement structure all around with basic connections for sewage, water and a couple of oversized propane tanks in the back. The occasional well-worn picnic table dotted the landscape, sending the message that this was a family place, a safe place, a nothing bad ever happens here place. Flags flew from almost every trailer, because if there's one thing these people were besides poor, was patriotic and proud of it, which usually meant that I could guess the number of guns in the camp just by counting the flags and multiplying by two. Maybe three to be on the safe side.
But that was the normal side of the camp, the more human side. This was the facade that normal people wanted to look at when they visited. It was the face that the inhabitants wanted everyone to see, but unless you happen to be taking a slow walk in the woods approaching the camp, there were quite a few things that would normally go unseen, unless you had some idea of what to look for.
So far I had seen a couple of faces carved into trees, faces that reminded me of Game of Thrones for some reason, and then the thought came that they were more like gargoyles. They were facing outward, away from the camp, as if they were there as guardians. I had the thought then that they probably encircled the entire camp.
Good place to put surveillance cameras, I'd thought idly, ever the skeptic, and kept on walking, wondering what other oddities I would spot.
"Why you got your hands up bro?" Dude wearing an american flag t-shirt was smoking by a tree, way too nonchalantly to be a guard, especially since I couldn't see a gun.
"So I don't get shot?" I ventured. "I'm supposed to meet Jesus. You know where he is."
"Jesus is in that fucked-up looking Winnie over in the backway. Take a left on Elm then it's right on the corner of Oakwood."
I could see little street signs on the corners of the dirt roads that tried desperately to fool people into thinking they were in a sub-division of a suburb. The power of the human mind is an amazing thing at times.
"Thanks, " I said.
"Hey, you wanna buy some weed?"
"Maybe later," I said. "If I manage to not get shot, I'm down for buying."
There seemed to be a small group of men and women at the circle of picnic tables, kids running around the way they do, winding in and out of the adults, hellbent on having as much fun as possible and somehow managing to not collide with each other or trample the smaller kids. Some of the men had already noticed me walking and looked more amused than concerned as I headed down what the sign assured me was Elm Street. I guess my tactics of walking with my hands in the air was paying off magnificently.
"I feel like an idiot. Can I take my hands down now?"
"As long as they think you're an idiot nobody's going to shoot you. Calvin's law."
"You just made that up didn't you?"
"Damn skippy. Keep those hands up and smile and wave."
I heard the cocking of a rifle, very soft and at a distance, just over to my left and allowed my eyes to look that way, the smile on my face becoming more strained, and there is was, the smell of gun oil, sunflower seeds and an overlay of some ungodly amounts of bodyspray. Someone was watching me from inside one the the trailers and he no doubt had his gun trained on me.
Another click, this time to the right, from a row of Winnebagos in various states of disrepair. I'm sure whoever was there thought he was being really quiet, or maybe he just didn't care, but I heard him alright. The goddamn hairs on the back of my neck heard him and they didn't like it either. Still, I kept on walking, the garishly painted Winnebago on the corner of Oakwood mocking me with the click-clack of every gun I heard being cocked.
"I'm feeling a little less like an idiot now..." I murmured into my headset. "I think I've got about twelve shotguns pointed at me right now."
"And just when I thought they were going to be friendly too..."
"Just once, I'd like you to be wrong about shit like this."
I could hear shuffling footsteps behind me as some of the armed men stepped out from the shadows to close ranks behind me, sure they had caught me in their ambush completely unaware. One of them was walking towards me now; I could smell the gun oil and the nicotine that stained his fingers and teeth, the cigarette smoke that clung desperately to every fibre of his clothing and had sunken in so deeply that it was part of his character. When he spoke the cigarette smoke did half of the talking, making his voice husky and rough, something that he probably thought was sexy but only a few women bothered to put up with and that's because they sounded and smelled just like his own loathsome mouth.
Sorry to go all poetic on you, but I just thought you should know how much I hated this dude before I even met him, before he even opened his mouth and mainly because it was this same motherfucker who thought it was going to be all badass as shit to point his shotgun at the back of my head and say something dangerous like:
"One more move pendejo and I blow your fucking head off."
Yes, he was exactly that kind of motherfucker.
I have no idea what I was thinking, especially since my last experience with a gun to my head hadn't ended so well. This was simply a case of instinct taking over, or maybe some form of fucked up self-preservation, but in one instant I had turned, grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and ripped it from his hands and in one smooth move that impressed even myself, turned it back on Smoky and planted the barrel right between his eyes.
"Pop quiz time Smoky McSmokes-A-Lot: you see a dude walking peacefully down the street, do you A: put a gun to his fucking head, B: say hello, how can I help you, or C: mind your own goddamn business?"
Smoky slowly raised his hands and held them out in the air, presumably to tell his other gun-toting idiot friends not to shoot because he had fucked up. The men behind us looked like they were ready to shoot me right now, but they stood down an odd assortment of men that you would usually only find in trailer parks.
"You're not human," Smoky said. "You're a vampire."
"I'm here to talk to Jesus. As you can see, I'm unarmed--"
Smoky looked me like I was an idiot. He looked from me back to the gun, clearly indicating that I was clearly wrong.
"--okay, I may have a shotgun, but this doesn't count since this is clearly your shotgun. Look, can you just get someone to call Jesus so I can get the gun out of your face and I can get out of here, preferably without being shot."
Smoky motioned with one of his hands and a teenager ran out from behind the trailers, a rifle slung over his shoulder. He ran off towards Jesus' trailer and I realized I could smell the fear coming off of him.
Claude was calmly freaking out in my ear.
"Well that was impressive, but how exactly are you planning to get out of this?"
"I have no idea Claude. I'm just suddenly deathly allergic to having shotguns pointed at my head."
"Who you talking to Jefe?"
"A very concerned friend. Look, I'd like very much to stop pointing this shotgun at you. Think your guys can manage to somehow not shoot me if I gave this back to you?"
"Jefe, you're making me look bad here. You give my gun back to me and I'm never going to live this down. Jesus himself will come out here and put a bullet in my head."
"Dude! Seriously?"
I thought about it for a long moment and then came up with something. "We can make it look really badass. I can look distracted and you can grab the gun back, but you gotta promise to not shoot me man. That shit hurts."
"I gotta at least kick you in the nuts man."
"Seriously? In the nuts?"
"It's the only way Jefe."
Claude wasn't having it.
"You seriously cannot be considering this. This guy is going to walk away with the story of how he talked you into giving his gun back to him, when you've got him dead to rights, and to top it off, he's going to tell them what a dumbass you were and how you allowed him to kick you in the nuts, but guess what? He's going to shoot you anyway!"
I could hear the door to a trailer bang open and knew that the kid was coming back.
"Jesus says you can go fuck yourself," the boy called back and there was a slight quake to his voice, and there it was, the metallic click-clack of a rifle being cocked. In a second that rifle was going to be aimed at my head.
"No he didn't!" I yelled back and made up my mind. I pulled the rifle away from Smoky's head and dropped it onto the ground. I grinned toothily at Smoky, hoping like hell that I was right about this. I looked back at the kid and sure enough the rifle was pointed at me.
"He's right here in front of me!" I turned back to Smoky and held out my hand for him to shake. "Isn't that right Jesus?"
"You know I still gotta kick you in the nuts right?"
"Can I at least deliver my message? It's from Harry."
Jesus looked around and raised an eyebrow. "There are supposed to be four of you. Where are the others? You planning some kind of ambush?"
I shook my head. "Nononononono, no. Not at all. We just didn't know what we were walking into, so that's why I'm here. To check things out."
Jesus walked around me examining me carefully. He leaned close and smelled deeply which kinda freaked me out a little, but I tried not to react too much. My heart was pounding as adrenaline flooded my system as the full reality of what had just happened hit me all at once. I had just pointed a shotgun into the face of the man I was here to see and he wasn't too happy about it since I had bruised his machismo.
"You've not been a vampire very long." He said rather matter of factly.
"About a year."
"And the others?"
"About the same. We're all accidentals so you know..."
***
"So what happened next?" Sammy asked and I smiled and shrugged.
Then I lied directly to her face.
"He said something about it not being the deal, kicked me in the nuts and I left. Claude and the guys picked me up and we drive back home. Harry was pissed as shit, but whatever."
Jaime was watching me and she knew I was lying.
"What are you leaving out Bob? What is it you don't want to tell us?"
I didn't answer. I just stared out the window and watched the darkened landscape speed by, bringing us closer by the minute to where the person-shaped monster named Jesus waited for us.
###
#### THE NEXT CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEX AND VIOLENCE. CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED. WATTPAD MAY PLACE IT UNDER A PRIVACY LOCK ONLY FOR FOLLOWERS, SO CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED#####
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