~ 2014; 5:45 pm – The Motel – Omaha, Nebraska ~
Evelyn.
I met with my father and uncle Dexter at the motel like he asked me to.
My father and I checked into a room a few doors down from where uncle Dexter was staying. The motel, like any others before it, hosted two queen beds, a small kitchen, two dressers, a desk, and poorly lighted by a yellow hue. Uncle Dexter had been staying in the motel for a while because of this vampire situation, and had practically decorated his own plain room with newspaper excerpts, old and new research, and written notes. Straight from a crime drama television show, his room spoke of a determined hunter.
I told Harry to wait near the coffee house we went to earlier while my father and I met with uncle Dexter, but knowing his restless instinct to not listen to me, I figured he'd be at the nearest pub by now.
"Sorry for the mess. I don't usually have visitors." Uncle Dexter apologized.
The three of us gathered around the desk in the room to discuss the information we collected today. A few stray papers were caught in pages of books, or being pulled out by uncle Dexter's rummaging. It reminded me a lot of his old house, which brought a smile to my face from the memory.
"So, this is the gist of what I've gathered from the few weeks I've been tracking this thing." He said as he laid out a map. "I've followed it since its first attack. At the time, I thought it was a one-off thing; most of the vampires 'round this part of the coast were found back in '09, until more attacks started happening and some sightings of a so-called 'vampire' being reported. It seems to be traveling west, and right now it seems like it's staying around Omaha for a little while. Now, it's more than likely that it's hiding out somewhere in the forests. The one behind that Bailey Grounds Camping Company sounds like our hotspot, but we can't know for sure if it is just one vampire or if it's a pack, so we need to be careful."
"Don't do anything reckless." My father spoke as he glanced towards me. "When we take this thing down we need to make sure it's contained. The last thing we want is to terrorize an entire town and have the real police on our asses."
"Agreed. Hey bug, what else did you find out about that Murphy family?" Uncle Dexter asked.
"Well, their son who went missing with the other's is named Edison, but he prefers Ed or Eddie, so it's likely he'll answer to those. He's eighteen. All of them grew up in the area. They went camping for three days, two nights. The parents weren't home when he left; they were in town at a city council meeting about their cattle."
Uncle Dexter and my father looked towards each other.
"Sounds about right." Uncle Dexter said, nodding, "We got a similar story from the other families." My father stepped away, nodding as well, pulling out his phone as he walked to the end of the room.
"Do we know anything else about those camping grounds?" I asked him. "Any strange deaths, past missing persons reports–"
"Already on it," My father said, "Good afternoon, this is agent Bonham, we spoke earlier... yes, I was wondering if you've found what we discussed earlier?" He left the room, leaving me confused.
"Your dad is very worried." Uncle Dexter sighed.
"What? Why? It's just another vampire."
"Let me rephrase that– your dad is very worried about you." A small smile fought his scarred upper lip, as he sighed again.
"Me? Did he say that?"
"No, but you can see it in his eyes when he talks to you. You can see it in the way he tenses up whenever you tell him you can do a job by yourself. You know, he never got used to you saying that."
He shut the notebook he was looking at to bring his full attention to me. It felt like he was really looking at me now, and I could already smell the nostalgic sentimental bullshït brewing in the cloudiness of his eyes as he grinned.
"In the car earlier, when he told you all that crap about not going into this alone. It's not just your safety that he cares about. I think it's also really hitting the old man that you're not his little girl anymore. He knows you can do this job alone if it came down to it."
"Didn't sound like that to me earlier." I mumbled, "Like, he made some points earlier. I can't take on more than one vampire alone, if it came down to it."
"You can. He and I both agree you're too sporadic to not somehow make it out of a fight like that alive. You've had so many moments of dumb luck in the past, can't imagine a silly vampire could break that streak."
I laughed at uncle Dexter's way of telling me, you should have died that one time but surprisingly you didn't. To say it was dumb luck would theoretically be correct, but in truth I was partial to Harry's assistance a handful of those times.
"You've really come into your own, bug. You're quite the hunter for someone your age." Uncle Dexter sighed, "Not a surprise there. Your dad has had you part of the business since you could walk."
"You're not gonna start crying, are you?"
"No, no, it's just really good to see you. You know, a phone call every once in a while, doesn't hurt; let me know you and your dad aren't dead yet."
"Sorry, I should call more." I frowned, "But in any case, we're here now. I've really missed you uncle Dexter."
"I missed you too, bug." He grinned, opening his arms, "Come 'ere."
I smiled as the familiar hold of his embrace enveloped me.
"When this all blows over, I'll buy you a beer." He whispered as I laughed in his ear. "Thanks uncle Dexter."
"So, it turns out those camping grounds have a history of missing persons." My father spoke up from the door as he walked in. "Similar incident happened about five years ago. A group went missing during a hike. Several others had been reported missing throughout the past decade but their cases have already been closed from lack of evidence to prolong investigations. A lot of the same profile going around, dead cows, instances of feeding, claims of a humanoid-like animal ripping these animals apart."
"So, what, they never thought to close it down?"
"Technically, no one has died on their camping grounds. Since the forest isn't privately owned, they're not liable to anyone going missing beyond the camping grounds." My father explained. "But I have alerted them that for this particular case it would be in their best interest to close down the camp until we solve the issue since it is on their camping grounds. That way, there won't be anyone else getting in our way when we go down there tonight."
"You have a plan?" I asked him.
"Well, sort of."
~ 2009 – The Motel – Manning, Colorado ~
Evelyn. Age 15.
When the news spread that they'd found the last vampire suspected of killing that hunter two weeks ago, all the hunters who'd stuck around to help with the hunt went out to celebrate, happy to end the tiring search for the remaining few.
I was growing tired; I had been folding the rest of my father's clothes after finishing mine.
We were set to leave Manning in the afternoon, but my father had gone celebratory drinking last night with some friends, and hadn't woken up yet. He was passed out in the impala, too heavy to be carried by me, and much too risky to be brought in by Harry.
Meanwhile, Harry had planted himself in the corner of the room, sitting atop the worn out chestnut dresser hunched over its surface with my knife and an expression of concentration. It was hard to dismiss the sound of steel digging into wood.
Having had enough, I marched up to Harry and snatched the knife from him. "Can you not?" I asked him, "You know my dad's gonna ground me he sees that." Since I couldn't tell him it was my friend, the demon.
As I was walking away from him, Harry grabbed onto my wrist and pulled me back to the dresser. I felt the warm ridges in the wood under my fingertips; the splintered wood pricked against my senses.
I looked down at the sinuous lines that marked the wood.
S O R R Y F
It was clearly unfinished; I assumed the 'F' was supposed to be an 'E' for my name, or the beginning of the word 'FOR', but nevertheless, it wasn't what I expected. I expected a poorly done image of a dick, or something else vulgar that would have me grounded.
I looked towards Harry who surprisingly hadn't left as soon as I read the word engraved in the dresser. His expression was unreadable, eyes blank with the lack of a soul to read, and no sense of true lamentation that the five-letter word entailed.
Harry rarely apologizes for anything, and if he ever uses that word it's never seriously; he usually never means to use it unless it leads into a snarky comment about me. I thought about what he could be apologizing for; something he finds so crushing that he's going against his own principles to make it known.
Could it be for leaving me alone a few days ago?
Could it possibly be for everything he's done in the past? No.
Before I could ask, he was gone, and he took my knife with him. Maybe I should have spoken my confusion when I first saw what he was working on, but I imagine there's some poetic reason for why he was apologizing through a terribly written carving on a motel dresser, rather than telling me directly.
He wanted me to feel the words he scratched into the wood.
~*~
My father woke up later that day. He reminded me of a sea captain who's been at sea for so long that he's forgotten what it's like to walk on land that isn't constantly swaying. My father's sea legs brought him close to the bed, but not far enough, and I had to help him lie down– with the trash can– as to not get any of his vomit anywhere.
"S-Sorry for passing out on you baby girl." My father murmured over the rim of the trash can. "How did– how did we get back to the motel? C-Can't quite remember."
"I drove... the car." I confessed quietly.
"You did, what now?" My father suddenly sat up, alert, and instantly regretting that action as he got sick over the can again.
I had to laugh, and my laughter was joined by my father who chuckled humorlessly.
"That's not funny." He said. "Evelyn, it's really not."
"Arthur carried you into the car and then drove us," I explained to him. "He says you drink like a little bitch."
My father glared at me as I spoke. "His words, not mine." I said, raising my hands in defense.
"Get me a glass of water– put some ice in it."
"I packed all your stuff for you, by the way." I said, handing him the glass he'd asked for. He pressed it to his temple immediately, and nodded, "Thanks– oh, that's nice." He hummed as he shut his eyes. "Did you eat yet?" He asked.
"Not yet, I was waiting for you. I'm not really hungry, anyway."
"There's a diner, next to the motel, go on and eat. I have 'bout ten bucks in my jacket pocket. Go on then." He said.
"What about you?" I asked him.
"I'll come join you once the room stops spinning. Go on, I'll come in a bit."
I did what he said, and moved towards him. I reached into his pocket and retrieved the folded bill inside. I looked back at my father one last time before leaving the room. He looked unwell, quietly suffering over the edge of the bed with his acquired sick bucket. The way he faced the harsh light coming through the window, made for an image of desolate sorrow; I wondered what else happened last night.
~ 2009 – The Diner Next To the Motel – Manning, Colorado ~
Evelyn. Age 15.
Harry reappeared again while I was eating in the diner. I could see him in my peripheral vision as I worked through my pancakes. His hands were planted in his pockets, and he was walking nonchalantly through the diner, purposely visible to onlookers who'd look at him twice as if they sensed the alluring nature of his being from a mile away.
When he slid into the booth with me, sitting across from my food with his signature smug expression, he revealed the palm of his open hand. In it was my knife. It had been cleaned, stripped of the dried blood and crisp flesh in return of the glint of its jagged blade under the diner lights.
I took my knife from Harry and tucked it into my jacket pocket.
"You can't stay. My dad's coming." I told him.
"I don't plan to. I just wanted to give you back what's yours before I leave. It'll be a while until I see you again, baby doll, look at me."
Though his words seemed to be filled with concern, his expression read differently. His furrowed eyebrows masked more than what was spoken, neither making him look confused or hurt or desperate, but rather frustrated and impatient instead.
"I need to take care of some things. I don't know for how long, and I can't tell you where. You won't be able to make any long-distance phone calls; I won't be in range, let's say that. So, don't do anything stupid that'll get you killed, because the last thing hell needs is some bovine fifteen-year-old virgin running around."
"So, nice to hear you think so highly of me. I always knew you cared about me."
"You'd be surprised of the various uses the blood of a virgin has. I know many demons who'd kill you on sight for that reason." Harry smirked, "I'd be praised for bringing your remains to their feet, but I'd rather not deal with the mess."
"So, you're going back there– down there." I said, smirking at Harry as I watched his lip twitch in defeat. "What... the hell... is going on in hell? Must be serious if you're willingly returning, in your state."
"It's none of your business." Harry muttered sharply, confirming my previous thoughts and stirring another. "When you leave Manning, don't try to contact me. I'll find you."
"How romantic. I wasn't planning on contacting you in the first place. You follow me around, like a creep. That's why you're in Manning right now, and that's how I know you'll find me wherever I am next."
"Don't put yourself on too high of a pedestal baby doll." Harry scoffed, "My primary concern is that you don't end up angering someone on my end, and get me killed. It doesn't matter how you see it, or how I see it, we both know it's for the best."
"It kind of sounds like you're breaking up with me."
"You make me sick." Harry muttered as he grinned in disgust. "I'm not going to miss your jokes, that's for sure."
"Whatever it is you're doing, just make sure you don't trigger doomsday or something." I told him, smiling as well. "I've got a whole life ahead of me, so they say."
"You're such a soft little thing," Harry said, "I'd worry more about that vampire you let escape instead of me."
I inhaled sharply as I glared at Harry narrowly, hating the fact that he looked so smug for knowing about it and using it against me in this petty back-and-forth about who ironically cared about the other more.
"Your knife– I caught his scent– and I followed it." Harry said, grinning proudly. "I don't take you as someone who'd leave a town without killing the last one." I bit my tongue as Harry spoke; he noticed. "But you are, because all the others think they've gotten rid of the last vamp in the area. But you let that boy go– why?"
"Because, he's just a boy; regardless of what he is, he didn't kill that hunter, and so he doesn't deserve to die."
Harry raised his eyebrows as he leaned towards me, judging me for what I was, and what I believed to be morally right; confusion came next, then judgement again. I shrugged, ignoring him by drinking from my glass of orange juice.
"You're probably going to regret that one day." Harry said.
"I'll deal with it when that day comes." I said, shrugging again.