Fall of the Mortals (Book 1) (15 page)

“Are you still with forty-four other survivors?” asked Shaun.

“Yes sir,” Rick responded.

“How are you on supplies? We’re running low here in L.A.”

“We’re all good here. Better load up and come on down,” answered Rick.

“I’m with eleven others and we’re heading your way,” said Shaun.

There was a pause again.

“Very good, Shaun,” said the voice. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

“See you then,” said Shaun, putting down the radio. He was thrown through a loop. He stopped for a moment and felt confused. He thought about the brief conversation with Rick. The delayed responses gave off a peculiar vibe. He remembered Terry saying,
“Everyone at the Stratosphere is dead.”
Shaun scratched the side of his face gently, pondering over the dismal tone of Rick Mason’s voice.
Why would Terry say that? Obviously people are still there. Why didn’t Rick sound more excited to hear from me? Maybe their supplies are running low too and the thought of taking on more survivors complicates things,
he thought. He looked outside and noticed the daylight. He knew the vampires weren’t out, they were resting. Something was off.

***

In a dark basement of a casino hotel in Vegas, Aaron, the male vampire that had just spoken with Shaun over the radio grinned and set the mic down on a table. The room was dimly lit with some candles mounted on the sides of the wall. Other vampires were with him.

“Well, Aaron?” asked a female vampire. “Are they coming?”

“I believe so, Tera,” he answered. “This Shaun Grazer thinks I’m Rick Mason,” he added with a creepy chuckle. The other vampires chuckled with him.

“He’ll bring the others with him and they’ll fall right into our trap,” said Tera.

“Precisely,” Aaron responded. “I knew this radio would come in handy when I pried it from Mason’s cold, dead fingers.” Aaron ran his finger across the top of the radio console gently.

“I thought Mason was alive when you found him? You drank his blood and kept it for yourself,” stated Tera in a hard tone, floating upwards and gnashing her fangs at him.

“He was barely alive!” said Aaron. “His friends murdered him though. They bludgeoned his head with an iron rod.”

“Mortals slaying mortals?” asked Tera. “How unfortunate. Such a waste.”

“There were seven of them,” stated Aaron. “They escaped on motorcycles and had the most ghastly weapons with them.”

“What kind of weapons?” asked Tera.

“Holy water,” answered Aaron. “I watched some of us be burned and melt right before my eyes.”

“We’ll find this seven you speak of and feast on their blood,” said Tera coldly.

“We would have had them too that night but the dawn was upon us,” said Aaron. “We retreated to our safe havens.”

“Where did they go?” asked Tera.

“They fled to the west towards the city of Los Angeles,” Aaron responded.

***

Shaun walked back to the tower. Terry and the bikers pulled up front at the same time on their loud motorcycles. Chris rode on the back with Mark holding a medium sized box. Each of the bikers had a box fastened to their bike with bungee cords, which instantly made Shaun suspicious.
More boxes? What the hell are they up to? Are they using Chris now for their gopher work? 
he thought. He noticed they were laughing back and forth at each other as if every other word they said was hilarious. Shaun didn’t like the fact that Chris fit in with them so well either. He felt like he was Chris’ older brother watching his younger brother hang out with a bunch of delinquents.

“Hey guys,” said Shaun in a friendly tone, approaching the entrance.

“Hey dude,” Curtis responded.

“More boxes, huh?” asked Shaun.

“Yep,” answered Curtis, glancing at Shaun as if he wanted him to go away.

“Let me give you a hand with those?” asked Shaun.

“No, no, no. We’re good, bud,” said Trent, carrying a box and walking around Shaun.

“Shaun. Check it out, man!” said Chris in an excited voice, showing off his ‘
L.A. Riders North’
rocker on the back of his jacket. “Is that sweet or what?”

“Yeah, bud. Looks great,” answered Shaun, trying to sound happy for him although he was really disgusted with the biker garb.

“We had an extra one laying around for him,” said Curtis with a smile, as if Shaun should be proud.

Terry climbed off his bike. He took the bungee cords off his box. He glanced at Shaun not having anything to say. Shaun felt uncomfortable but initiated a conversation anyway.

“So, where ya guys been?” asked Shaun.

Terry looked at Shaun as if he was going to say,
“What’s it to you,”
but Shaun waited for a response anyway.

“Just out getting stuff,” answered Terry.

“Holy water?” asked Shaun in a facetious tone, smirking.

“You trying to make a point? I wish you’d make it, bud,” Terry answered sternly.

“Fine. What’s with the boxes, Terry?” asked Shaun.

“It’s stuff. I told ya,” answered Terry. “Excuse me,” he added, walking around Shaun with the box in his arms.

It was clear the bikers had shut Shaun out of their little circle. He annoyed them. He was the ex-cop out to do the right thing and it got in their way and bothered them. He didn’t care though, he had a plan to get those who he loved out of there. He worried about Chris’s loyalty though. He feared Chris’ loyalty would sway towards the drug abusing bikers and away from the tower family.

***

Dinner was over. Shaun felt strange. He had to talk to Harold and Betty about what the bikers were into and leaving the tower as soon as they could. The bikers were quiet at the table. They didn’t have much to say. There were no snide remarks, no cocky comments. Terry wasn’t trying to be the life of the party with his lame stories of taking on the free world and the government with his motorcycle. Harold and Betty were quiet too. There was an awkward silence. The bikers brought their own aura with them that made everybody feel uneasy. Even Mr. Jones was eating his dinner quietly.

The bikers must have had an effect on Jones too. Maybe his mind has to absorb their presence for a while and then the crazy old Jonesy will be back
, Shaun thought.

He noticed Mark kept looking at Kim. She was uncomfortable and seemed intimidated by him. She would glance at him, look down at her food with scared eyes and adjust her sitting position. Kim sat there and didn’t eat. It was clear there was tension between her and Mark.

“So Mark, what year of hog you got?” asked Shaun, just to get Mark’s attention off Kim.

“Huh?” asked Mark, turning his head to Shaun, jerked back into reality.

“Your bike. What year is it?” asked Shaun.

“It’s an O-two,” Mark answered. “I rebuilt the engine myself. It runs better than new,” he boasted in a crusty tone, taking another bite of his dinner. 

“How many miles you got on it?” asked Thai.

“A little over a hundred thousand,” Mark responded. “That ain’t nothin’ for a hog though. I could go another hundred thousand easy.”

“Too bad you lost your bike the other night, Shaun,” said Terry calmly. Shaun was surprised he actually sounded sincere.

“I’d rather have my life than my wheels,” Shaun responded. “I have you to thank for that.”

“If it wasn’t such a risk, we’d go back there and get your bike for ya,” said Terry.

“No worries,” Shaun responded, looking at Curtis. “Curtis, you seem kind of quiet. What’s your story?”

Curtis looked back at him but didn’t answer. He took a bite of food. Shaun started to size Curtis up again.
Maybe Curtis is the real creep of the bunch
, he thought.

“I’m a biker, dude. What else you wanna know?” stated Curtis in a dry tone. Trent, Mark and Billy chuckled. They liked Curtis’
maverick
attitude. Brody sat quiet as if he wasn’t listening at all.

“You from here?” asked Shaun.

“Grew up in El Toro. My Dad was a janitor,” answered Curtis.

“El Toro? Nice neighborhood,” said Shaun. “Which high school?”

“I’m a drop out,” Curtis responded. “My gramps gave me his old Harley. I started working on it. Been in love with bikes ever since.”

“What line of work you been into?” asked Shaun.

Curtis didn’t answer but stared at Shaun. Terry and the bikers all looked at Shaun as if he were probing Curtis and was being inappropriate.

“Why? You writing a book?” Curtis replied with a smirk.

“No. Just curious,” stated Shaun. “I wasn’t trying to offend you.”

Terry looked at Shaun, wishing he would shut up with his disguised grand inquisition. Shaun picked up on the body language. Curtis was the brains of whatever crap they’d been involved with. Curtis may actually be the real leader.

“For the record, Shaun, I used to be a bike mechanic,” stated Curtis. “Worked in a few garages in East L.A.”

Shaun nodded, pretending to respect his response. He took the hint and ended his questions. He knew what was really going on. He had them all sized up. Curtis was a big time criminal and had nothing to show for his life at that point. He had most likely been manufacturing narcotics, dealing drugs, money laundering, theft or anything else to get by. Curtis was the brain for the main attraction. He most likely handled the money too.

Terry was the front man or the con-artist. He knew how to use words well in a soft tone to manipulate people.
As soon as you lower your guards with Terry, he’ll take advantage of you, stab you in the back or steal from you.

Mark was the hardened bad guy. There was no telling what he was capable of. Shaun sensed he lacked a true conscience and could hurt somebody badly very easily. He was by far the worst of the bunch.

He looked at Trent, Billy and Shane. They were the young, impressionable idiots of the crew, the dirt gophers or the scouts trying to work up the biker gang food chain. They were the dope peddlers for Terry or Curtis. They handled the burglaries and petty thefts to get the crew what they needed.

Brody was the over the hill fart. He didn’t give a damn about anything. As long as they threw him a table scrap, he would be the guard dog, transporter, messenger or do anything else that needed to be done that didn’t require much effort. Guys like Brody are grandfathered into the gang. In his case, since he was old time buddies with Terry’s uncle who ran the south end biker gang, he was already one of the family. Brody was just a used up old man with nothing to show for his life either.

“Well, that was a great meal. Thank you, honey,” said Harold.

“You’re welcome,” answered Betty.

“Yeah, you’re a great cook,” said Trent.

Billy and Shane gave Betty a thumbs up, complimenting her on her cooking. 

“I appreciate that,” said Betty. “Everything going okay down there, Terry?”

Shaun noticed Curtis and Terry glanced at him as if they were waiting for him to say something. They knew he had an idea they were into dope and making a drug lab. It was the perfect opportunity for Shaun to blow the whistle on them. Shaun stayed quiet, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He didn’t want to rat them out. It wasn’t his intention to kick them out of the tower. After all, Terry saved his life. Shaun’s plan was to simply take off in the middle of the night with the tower family and leave the bikers in the tower to themselves.

“Everything’s fine. Thanks,” answered Terry, getting up to leave. “We appreciate the chow, you guys.”

“No problem,” Harold responded.

“Damn it!” shouted Mr. Jones, slamming his fists on the table with his head down.

“Jones! What is it?” asked Harold.

“Holy shit man! I about crapped in my drawers!” hollered Terry. “Is he always like this?”

“It’s okay,” said Harold, getting up from the table, rushing over to help him. Shaun hurried to Jones too. They put their hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down. Jones kept his head down with his fists clenched on the table. He was clearly having another mental episode.

“Jonesy? Talk to us, my friend. What’s up?” asked Harold.

“C’mon Jonesy. Breathe in; breathe out. Think it through,” added Shaun.

“They’re dead! They’re all dead!” shouted Jones.

“Who’s dead?” asked Harold.

“Everybody! They’re all just freaking dead! It’s all my fault, damn it!” he shouted.

“Nothin’ is your fault, man! Just cool down, brother,” said Harold.

“Take it easy, Jones,” said Shaun, rubbing his shoulders. Everyone at the table was speechless.

Jones stood up, inhaled and exhaled deeply for a moment.

“You cool, Jonesy?” asked Harold. “Everything is alright, buddy. Just breathe it out.”

Jones didn’t respond but looked at everyone at the table intensely, breathing heavily. Nobody said a word but just looked at him.

“Are you okay, Jonesy?” asked Harold.