Monsters Within (8 page)

1

Jason Eastman often woke himself up with his own snoring. His mother had always told him that he’d end up having the same sleeping issues as his father, ending up with one of those stupid CPAP machines before he was fifty. 

It was that comment from his mother that greeted him in his thoughts as he woke up two days after having showed Nikki his trap cam footage. But as he opened his eyes to his darkened ceiling, he was pretty sure he hadn’t been snoring. Something else had jerked him from sleep, some noise that he had barely heard as he’d sprung awake.

He sat up, feeling an uneasy sensation churning in his guts. The bedside clock read 3:51. He waited to hear the sound again, but it did not come
.
It was probably just one of your neighbors coming in late again
,
he told himself
.
Probably that coke-head two doors over stumbling back home from Randy’s Roost or—

The sound came again, clear now that his mind wasn’t fogged over by sleep. It was coming from his left, from the window along the rear wall of his bedroom. It sounded almost like a tapping noise. Had there been trees near his window, Jason might have assumed that a gentle wind had stirred the branches just enough to brush his window. But there were no trees out there and from the quiet of the night, Jason didn’t think there was any wind blowing outside, either.

He got out of bed and walked slowly across the bedroom. In the further parts of his head, he naively thought that he would find Nikki standing at his window. Perhaps she had finally realized that there was something between them and wanted to show him that she had been feeling the same emotions Jason had been wrestling with. Maybe now it was time for them to show one another how they felt.

The thought of having Nikki in his bed was almost enough to stave off the fear that clawed at him as he made his way to the window. He saw nothing there, only the blackness of night and the vague dark shapes of trees that ran along behind the small apartment complex. He leaned towards the window and peered out.

A pair of eyes greeted him, shining bright with a sick shade of yellow. The eyes belonged to a face that was pressed directly against the glass. The face itself was not human in any way, nor was it an animal. It was ghoulish, twisted, and obscene. It smiled at Jason with cracked lips, drawing up a chin that nearly ended in a sharp point.

Jason felt a scream climb up his throat, but he locked it down. On the other side of the glass, the unnamable creature opened its mouth and began to talk. Its voice was blocked by the window, but Jason could tell that it was deep and guttural. Jason actually felt himself reaching forward to unlock the window and raise it up so he could hear, but he stopped himself just in time.

Instead, he thought of his cell phone, lying on his desk just inches away from him. He had to get a picture of this. What in the hel
l
wa
s
this thing that was at his window? A demon? It certainly resembled every picture Jason had seen of demons, whether in comics or gothic paintings. If he could just get a picture of this thing, he’d…

The thing at the window threw a quick punch, shattering the glass instantly. When the glass came raining in, some of it actually cutting his bare arms, Jason finally let the scream rise up out of his throat.

As the creature came crawling through his shattered window, Jason was still reaching blindly for his phone. His fingers fell on it but he was never able to pick it up.

The last thing Jason Eastman felt was something hot at his throat followed by a brief yet excruciating pain. He died quickly, but not fast enough to be spared the sound of his own throat being ripped out by talon-like hands.

2

Kara Humphrey stepped out of her patrol car just before dawn. There were already two other officers at the scene. Yellow crime scene tape had been plastered up all around the apartment that Jason Eastman had resided in. The two officers were milling around on the slab of concrete that served as Jason Eastman’s porch. When they saw Kara coming, they exchanged an awkward glance with one another and then gave her an obligatory nod.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s with the looks?”

The taller of the two spoke up. His name was Ralph Overton and while he was dedicated to his job, he could be a real dick at times. This morning, apparently, was no exception.

“The state police are on the way. It’s not anything for the squeamish in there. If you had a big breakfast, I’m not sure you should go in there. It’s nasty.”

Kara heard this a
s
Well little girl, this is men’s work. Don’t want you going in there and getting all messy. Sheriff Morel won’t mind too much…

“The call I got said there was no body,” Kara said.

“Yeah, there isn’t,” Overton said. “Still the damn bloodiest thing I ever seen.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she said as she brushed past them and into the apartment.

She had taken no more than three steps into Jason’s small apartment when the thick, rich smell of blood reached her nose. Undeterred, she carried on. She walked to the back towards the bedroom, where Jason’s neighbor had found his body less than two minutes after hearing the sound of shattering glass and Jason’s screams.

Kara entered the bedroom, the smell of blood now overpowering. When she saw the dark red splattered everywhere, she understood why.

Blood was matted to the carpet, so thick and muddled that it looked almost black. It was also on the walls, splattered in random smears and splashes like some deranged abstract painting. But the thing that really got her was the fact that it was also above her head. Jason Eastman had been so viciously attacked that his blood had reached the ceiling. Kara tried to imagine the brutality of such an attack, but her mind only resorted to gory horror movie scenes. It was the only way she could rationalize it. Maybe Jason Voorhees had come in, beheaded Jason, and taken the body with him.

She almost let out a nervous laugh. She caught it just in time and realized that she was starting to feel slightly queasy.

It took a while, but the enormity of the scene finally caught up to her. She felt the little bit of breakfast she’d had rising in her throat, but she managed to keep it down. Truth be told, in terms of gore, this was nothing compared to what she had seen at Deke Goode’s farm. Still, this was different—this was a human.

She felt herself begin to tremble just as Ralph Overton stepped into the room.

“His folks have already been here,” he said. “We didn’t let them see this, of course, but they put it together for themselves. The dad is catatonic. The mother is next door, sitting on the neighbor’s couch. She’s apparently friends with them.”

“She in any condition to talk?” Kara asked.

“Seems to be. She seems to think that because his body wasn’t here, he might still be alive somewhere.”

Kara nodded. “How much longer before the state police get here?”

“Ten minutes, give or take.”

“Thanks.”

With that, she brushed by Overton and exited the apartment. She took in a deep breath of the early morning air, watching as the colors of dawn began to creep into the sky. The smell of blood still clung to her airways. It wasn’t pungent per se, just thick.

She readied herself as best as she could and walked next door. The name over the mailbox rea
d
Davis.

She knocked on the door and it was answered almost immediately by an older woman. She wore curlers in her hair and looked very tired. Kara knew the woman’s name to be Helen Davis but didn’t know her personally—the same old story in a little town like Red Creek.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted to the door, a stark contrast to the blood in Jason Eastman’s apartment. Usually a rabid coffee drinker, the thought of drinkin
g
anythin
g
after what she had seen in Jason’s apartment was sickening.

“Ms. Humphrey,” Helen Davis said. “It’s nice to see you. I’m glad you’re here. I think Mrs. Eastman would like to speak with you.”

Kara entered the apartment and found both of Jason’s parents inside. As Overton had said, the father was catatonic; he was rocking to and fro, staring at the ground and letting out a very stressed humming noise. His mother, Valerie, if Kara remembered correctly, had clearly been weeping. Still, she acknowledged Kara when she sat next to her on the couch.

“Mrs. Eastman, I’m so sorry,” she said.

Valerie Eastman nodded slowly. Kara saw the dried trails of tears on the sides of her face. Somehow, they were worse than seeing Jason’s father so out of it. As Kara spoke to Valerie, her husband still rocked himself, staring at nothing.

“Do you think you could speak with me for just a moment?” Kara asked. “I have just a few questions.”

“Sure,” Valerie responded. “Anything to find out…what happened.  If there’s any chance that he’s wounded somewhere and still alive, do you think he could survive having lost that much blood?”

It was the first time she was glad to be burdened with the title of deputy. She honestly had no idea if such was a thing was possible or not. “Sorry to say, I’m not the person to ask,” she said. “That might be a question you can ask the state police when they get here. As I’m sure you may have heard, I’m just filling in until Sheriff Morel recovers.”

“But do you think it’s possible?”

“Anything is possible, ma’am,” Kara said. “Mrs. Eastman, do you know what Jason might have been doing last night? Do you know if he’s angered anyone or has any ill history with anyone?”

“No, not that I know of. He really didn’t get involved with bad crowds, you know? In fact, I don’t think Jason had many friends.”

“None? Is there no one he would hang out with regularly?”

“Well, there’s Nikki Galimore, but he never really talked about her. I think he sort of had a thing for her, but never actually said so.”

Hearing Nikki’s name brought about a coil of uncharacteristic jealousy that sprung in Kara’s chest. She easily recalled seeing Nikki’s car leaving Saul’s driveway two nights ago.

So what
?
Kara asked herself.
 
Just what in the hell were you doing parked there watching his driveway, anyway? It certainly wasn’t for any sort of police business, now was it?

These thoughts in the presence of a grieving mother made Kara feel ill. She asked a few more questions, ending the conversation with a request to take Jason’s computer to see if she could perhaps find any files or e-mails that might help them find some clues as to what happened to him.

Valerie Eastman agreed. Kara gave her an awkward hug before leaving and then walked back out to where the coroner had just arrived. Overton was speaking to him animatedly. Kara passed by them both and headed back into Jason’s apartment to retrieve his computer.

As she walked in, she wondered how recently Nikki Galimore had been here. That, naturally, led her back to wondering just what business Nikki Galimore had had at Saul Benton’s cabin two nights ago. The jealousy that lingered as a result confused her, but it did not alarm her nearly as much as the slowly blooming anger.

3

When Saul was stirred awake by a frantic knocking on his front door, he sat up in bed with anger rushing through him. He had no clocks in the house, but the play of filtered light though the blinds along the bed and floor suggested that it was around three o’ clock in the afternoon. This would make the second time he had been stirred awake during the day in less than three days. And although Nikki had come by around dusk, he still considered that an intrusion of his normal schedule.

He assumed this knocking was Kara Humphrey again. Saul wondered just what sort of bullshit Lester had been telling on him this time. For a moment, Saul thought about lying back down and ignoring the knocks; eventually, they’d give up and go away.

Only, the knocking was rapid and sounded urgent. Saul sniffed the air, hoping to get some indication as to who was at his door. He smelled no alcohol, so it wasn’t Lester. And he couldn’t smell the excitement and degree of sexual energy he had sensed in Kara. He smelled something familiar though, something he couldn’t place right away.

“Damn,” he said, getting out of bed. He slid on the pair of jogging shorts and shirt he kept by the side of the bed in case of emergencies, and walked into the living room. As he strode across the room, the knocking at his door sounded almost like gunfire.

He opened the door cautiously, not sure of what to expect. The last thing he expected to encounter was Nikki Galimore, in tears, throwing wild punches at him. Saul took two stumbling steps backwards—not from the blows (they had the effect of a gentle spring breeze as they fell on his face and chest) but because of the shock.

As he righted himself, a hard right-handed blow struck him along the side of the face.

“You fucker!” she screamed at him with so much emotion in her voice that he thought the force of it would crack her throat. She threw more wild punches, most missing altogether, as she swung through the tears.

“Nikki, what are y—,”

“How could you do it, yo
u
monster
.
You fuckin
g
demon
!
How dare you…”

She swung one last time. Saul caught the swing, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. He held her in a restraint against his chest and felt her fury boiling inside through her clothes. He felt it like heat, like holding his hand over a stove. More than that, he felt her fragile weight against him, her tiny feminine curves leaning into him. He held her tight, not out of any sort of desire, but to try to calm her.

“Nikki, what are you doing?”

“Let go of me! Don’t yo
u
dar
e
touch me!”

“You’re not making sense,” Saul said. “Nikki, what the hell is going on?”

“Where is he? His body wasn’t even there! What did yo
u
do?”

He didn’t shout, but he raised his voice enough to give rise to his anger. “Nikki, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

She looked up at him with tear-flooded eyes. Saul didn’t know if he had ever seen such a perfect mixture of fear and hatred in a pair of human eyes. She gave him a queer look and, pushing slightly away from him as his grip loosened, a shaky understanding dawned on her.

“You…” she said.

“Dammit
,
what?
”
Saul growled. He was very aware of his clenched fist and the anger trying to push that other part of him to the surface.

“You don’t know, do you? You really don’t know?”

“Apparently not. What are you talking about?”

“Jason’s dead,” she said, choking back a sob. “Something broke into his apartment. From what I hear, it was brutal. Blood everywhere and no body to be found. I…I thought it was you. I thought you went after him because I told you about the footage of you in Deke Goode’s pasture.”

“One last time, Nikki…tha
t
was not me!”

“But you seemed so concerned. I thought maybe the film was a threat to you and so you took care of him.”

She looked down, pulling completely away from him now. She was ashamed and embarrassed. Saul reached out to her, but she flinched away.

“It’s okay,” Saul said. And really, it was. He would have jumped to the same conclusion if the roles had have been reversed.

“Nikki, I swear I had nothing to do with it. I don’t even know who Jason is.”

She shook her head. “I know. But it was the only thing that made sense. I mean, who the hell would kill him?”

“That’s a good question,” Saul said, instantly thinking of his visit from Benali. But Benali would never do anything like that, even if he knew exactly who had that damned footage. It was against the oath of The Guard.

“Are yo
u
sur
e
the only one of your kind around here?” Nikki asked.

“Yes. As far as I know. It is unlawful for two vampire families to exist in the same location. I have been here for a very long time and there have been no others.” He didn’t tell her about his own speculations that perhaps the monster on the footage was indeed another vampire. Of course, she had likely jumped to those same conclusions. She said as much with the next comment out of her mouth.

“If that thing on the footage was another one of you…mayb
e
i
t
is what killed Jason. Is that possible?”

“I suppose so,” he said, again not letting her in on his visit from Benali and the conversation that had passed between them. “There are rules set in place by The Guard, as I told you, but there’s always the possibility that some rogue family could seek to break them.”

She was nodding, but Saul didn’t think she was really listening to him. She was looking around the cabin, her knees wobbling. It almost looked like she was dizzy.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions…I shouldn’t have come here again. I’m—,”

“Nikki, you need to sit down.”

She nodded and started to weep again. She stumbled to his couch and buried her head in her hands. Saul had never known how to provide comfort; this sort of sorrow was not something that his kind was accustomed to. It was foreign and, quite frankly, made him rather uncomfortable.

She wept for fifteen minutes, hard hitching sobs that caused her tiny frame to shudder. Saul sat down on the other end of the couch, not sure how to react. After a while, she looked to him with red-rimmed eyes and frowned.

“I really am sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He shrugged it off.  “It’s okay. I understand.”

This set her off again. She whimpered, tried to stop it, and then lost control. Through her sobs, she said, “I don’t…don’t normally cry like th-thi-this. I’m so s-sorry.”

“It’s okay. Take your time to grieve.”

She did. She leaned against the arm of the couch and cried. Saul sat there, wanting to put his arm around her, wanting to draw her close, yet did not. He didn’t feel that it was his place. And besides, if Nikki had those same stirrings that he had smelled coming off of Kara, his act of comfort may be seen as something more.

And what would be so bad about that
?
he asked himself.

He shut the thought out before it had time to grow. He sat there as her crying eventually tapered off. It took him a moment to realize that she had fallen asleep. He wondered if she had been crying over the death of her friend all day and, if so, how exhausting it must be for a human.

He then thought about the brutal death she had described; having one’s throat torn out happened quite often in the wild, but not with humans. Perhaps there was something strange occurring in Red Creek beyond his own current oddities.

Saul slowly stood from the couch and walked back into his bedroom. He tried to go back to sleep, but smelling her in the other room was too much. He lay there and watched the ceiling, waiting for those traces of murky sunlight to die out as the night strangled it.