The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) (46 page)

“Grandpa called from the kitchen, asking if I was all right. He moved over to the back door and peered through the screen.

“‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I said, sitting up. ‘That lizard’s long gone now.’

“I tried to sell him with a broad smile. When he stepped from the doorway, he said not to linger in the heat.

“I intended to stay outside for just a little while. It depended on where the lizard went. I waited until Grandpa’s footfalls and the switching on of another floor fan confirmed he’d turned his attention to other tasks. Really, it would’ve been nice if he’d use the air conditioner more often. Aside from the house staying cooler, the kitchen storm door would’ve been closed and he wouldn’t have known about the commotion on the porch. I had to be very discreet in my pursuit of the lizard, since Grandpa would likely keep an eye on me.

“I stood up and quietly rummaged around the porch searching for something suitable to apprehend the critter. I found a large, steel bait bucket with a retractable lid and carried it over to the porch steps.

“Too much detail for you so far, Agent McNamee?”

“No,” Peter replied, giving an approving nod. “It’s working fine like this.”

“Well, okay, then. Grandpa let the backyard deteriorate over the years. Stuff like worn out appliances and the rusted out remains of an old pickup truck cluttered it. It all seemed out of place if you considered the full mimosa trees dotting the yard and the majestic oak sitting in the middle of everything. Then again, maybe it wasn’t quite so out of place compared to the enormous stone sphere resting near the back wall of the property.”

“I’ve got a bunch of pictures of that thing, Jack. They’re also in my attaché, along with a report detailing the sphere’s composition,” said Peter.

“Can I see that too?”

“Just as soon as you’re done with your story, Jack. Again, I appreciate the descriptive element so far.”

“I’ll try to continue that way.” Jack found it difficult to stay focused in light of the latest tidbit. “It’s all so strange, man. Even though it happened years ago, it’s as if it all took place just yesterday.

“When I was younger, I imagined the entire backyard as some bizarre work of art. It embarrassed me when I got older, especially since Grandpa wouldn’t let us clean it up. But it sure as hell made a great hiding place if you were a three foot lizard wanting to be left alone. It could be anywhere with so many nooks and crannies. With that in mind, I braced myself for the oppressive afternoon heat and stepped into the yard.

“I scanned the walls, shutters, roofs, and gables of our big ole house, shielding my eyes. No small footprints or claw marks on the light blue walls and gables, and nothing on the freshly painted chalices either.

“While looking at the roof, I thought about how the lizard behaved when I first saw it. It seemed to enjoy being out of the burning sun. So, I figured it might prefer some place cool, like under the porch. I walked to the wooden lattice beneath and peered through the holes. A great place to hide from the sun and abundant insects to feed on, but the lattice was still intact.

“By then my shorts and t-shirt were pretty damp from sweat. Shielding my eyes, I moved to the pickup’s sunbaked remains, knowing I didn’t have long before becoming totally drenched. The grass and weeds grew tall around the faded red truck body. All four tires had long since been removed and most of the frame devoured by rust. The windshield had been broken by an errant fly ball during a neighborhood baseball game two summers earlier, and most of the glass was in shards on the torn vinyl seat.

“I got down on my knees to get a good view of the pickup’s undercarriage. The overgrown weeds and grass were almost impossible to see through. I considered sticking my hands underneath, but then remembered the lizard’s mouth, full of sharp teeth.

“I decided to eliminate other possible hiding places first, so peered through the driver side window. No lizard. Only undisturbed dirt and cobwebs. And the critter definitely wasn’t hiding in the nearby mimosa trees either. Just a handful of swallowtail butterflies coupling near bloom clusters on the tree’s upper branches.

“With sweat pouring down my face, I gave up looking. I started walking to the tire-swing hanging from the giant oak. That’s when a noticeable ‘clank’ and rustling sound came from the pile of broken appliances nearby. My heart raced. I suddenly felt chilled and a little bit clammy, listening to whatever rummaged ferociously inside an old washer.

“I cautiously moved to it, worried the bait container wouldn’t be enough to protect me. I noticed a deflated soccer ball a short distance to my left, and quietly hurried to it. Armed with two laughable weapons, I moved to the old machine.

“The disturbance grew violent. Expecting to see the lizard in a highly agitated rage, I prepared for the worst. When I reached the washer, its weathered door sat slightly ajar. I leaned to throw the door open. The startled animal barreled out, revealing dark, frightened eyes as it headed straight for me.

“For the second time that afternoon I fell hard on my ass. Luckily, it was just Banjo.”

“I’ll bet that came as a relief!” said Peter, chuckling as he relaxed. He picked up his coffee to take another sip.

“Yeah it did,” Jack agreed, smiling as he reminisced. “Honestly, I thought he’d bite me, his teeth bared as meanly as any farm critter could, I suppose. As soon as Banjo recognized me, he tentatively approached and started licking my arms and legs.

“I remember asking him if he’d seen any three foot lizards lately, though I’m sure he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. Knowing Banjo’s tendency toward skittishness, he’d have been content to remain inside the washer.

“Maybe you already know, but Banjo’s fur was black with brown splotches on his back and sides. He whimpered again and looked into my face, as if pleading for me to lead us out of the sweltering sauna. I led him over to the oak’s shade, giving up on my search for that goddamned lizard.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever seen any pictures of it, Agent McNamee, but the oak tree was truly something. Grandpa once told me it’d been there long before the house was built, and that’d been roughly a hundred and seventy years before, as I’m sure you already know. The tree’s long branches rose to dizzying heights, and if anyone stood below while leaning their head back as far as they could without falling over, the upward view would momentarily take their breath away.”

“I have seen photographs of the oak,” said Peter. “I never saw a picture of Banjo, just some notes and a brief description from Sherriff McCracken. But I do have some other pictures you should find interesting. They’ll be waiting for you when we’re done.”

“I look forward to that.” Jack paused a moment. “As I mentioned, Banjo and I walked into the cool shade provided by the oak’s thick foliage. He trotted over to a half empty water bowl near the oak’s trunk. A thirty-foot ladder nailed to the trunk led to a wooden tree house nestled within a large cluster of branches. A tire swing hung from a thick branch beneath the tree house. I climbed onto the swing after setting the deflated soccer ball and bait container nearby.

“After a brief glance over my shoulder toward the house, I flew through the air. Damp clothes pressed against my skin and my hair blew away from my forehead. Finding real relief from the heat, I figured I could stay outside a bit longer than originally planned.

“The swing provided an excellent view of the Palmer’s place off to the right and a pretty good view of the Johnson’s farm over to the left of our yard. A six foot stone wall enclosed the backyard, and the back side of all three properties accessible only by a seldom used dirt road. That’s why very few folks ever saw the sphere back there.

“The sphere is such a bizarre oddity, you know? I mean, surely you’d agree on that. Roughly fifteen feet in diameter, it dwarfed the wall and old wrought-iron gate in front of it. The sphere’s texture was very smooth, much like finely sanded marble or limestone, and its off white color similar to a fresh chicken egg.

“Rumor has it that the sphere drew some serious media attention when I was just a toddler. Even until we moved away, the local folks in Carlsdale sometimes talked about the scientists who made routine visits to our home to study the damned thing. I imagine you’re fully aware of that too.

“Eventually, Grandpa grew tired of all the attention and lack of privacy. Somehow, he managed to get NASA to agree to take the sphere away from us. Since he was tight-lipped about this for years, I had to rely on the local rumor mill in Carlsdale to first learn what happened, and why the sphere was still there many years later.

“He arranged for some folks from NASA to come and carry the sphere to Houston. They brought a specially designed semi-truck to transport it. At the last minute those plans got changed, after a mysterious dark limousine raced up the old road behind our property. The removal operation got called off and we’ve never heard from the good folks at NASA since.”

“I’ve brought along yet another report that talks about that, from NASA’s unofficial point of view,” Peter said, pausing to pour himself a second cup of coffee. “Not meaning to distract you from your train of thought, but there’s a lot more that went on behind the scenes with that fiasco than you might imagine, Jack. And, despite my awareness of your family’s history, it’s good to hear your take on things. So, continue like you are, man. This is great.”

“All right,” said Jack, feeling comfortable. “I remember looking at the sphere while I thought about the NASA stuff. The upper portion bathed in the sun’s light, its lower half covered in shadow. Nothing but bare earth surrounded the sphere. Even the hardiest and most stubborn weeds refused to grow anywhere near it.

“I flew higher on the swing, and could clearly see the road beyond the back wall. Overrun with tall grass and weeds, a large field lay on the other side of the road. From there, the terrain sloped steadily upward to a thick wooded hillside, filled with towering pines, elms, and oaks. Since the trees hadn’t been raped by the lumber industry, many were almost as tall as the oak.

“I remember feeling strangely at peace. By then my damp clothes dried some, and I became aware of a fairly large object bulging from my pocket. It startled me, and I reached into my pocket and pulled out a ring sucker. I had bought it that morning while at the local barbershop with Grandpa. Still in its wrapper, the sucker originally resembled a giant ruby ring, now misshapen.

“Even in the shade, the candy glistened within the plastic wrapper. Being thirteen and all, I imagined the sucker taunting me to open the wrapper and pull it out, like a challenge to see if I could do that without it slipping out of my grasp. For some reason, it made me think of the lizard. I glanced toward our house and where I’d searched, but still no sign of it. A bit depressed, I figured it must’ve left our yard.

“Ready to go back inside the house, I slowed the swing. I would’ve really liked to capture the elusive critter, at least long enough to impress Jeremy. Instead, I’d have to settle for a mere description, which would be greeted with either cold skepticism or ridicule, depending on my brother’s mood.

“The swing stopped, with me staring absently into the prism of the wrapped, melted sucker. I thought about my parents. They mysteriously vanished without a trace one summer afternoon before my first birthday. Jeremy recalled them a little, but his memories were more like faded snapshots. I didn’t remember them at all. Much of what either of us had to go by came from some photographs and letters to our grandparents. The rest came from the stories Grandpa told. That, and Carlsdale’s rumor mill.

“Much of the information we heard about our mom and dad was positive in nature. Mostly, the stories involved only our mom. Other stories concerning our folks weren’t so good. Hurtful gossip, and we’d only catch bits and pieces. Especially whenever we accompanied my grandfather downtown, which at the time consisted of a grocery store, post office, barber shop, two gas stations, and a local branch of Alabama’s First National Bank. Morose in nature, the gossip dealt with our family’s history, made even worse by the sphere’s presence. Apparently, their vanishing act and the appearance of the sphere happened at roughly the same time.

“What I gathered was that my parents brought Jeremy and me with them to Carlsdale from Atlanta to spend a couple of weeks with my grandparents. But something went terribly wrong. About a week and a half after our arrival in Carlsdale that June, my folks were officially missing. The authorities never found a trace of either one.

“When I was little, I’d spend many afternoons and evenings in the tree house, armed with my toy binoculars. I’d aim them toward the woods, because that’s the last place anyone saw them, as they headed out through the back gate with a picnic basket. When I got older, I still found myself looking out through my upstairs bedroom window from time to time.

“I would’ve ventured into the woods before long, but Grandpa absolutely wouldn’t allow it, saying he wasn’t about to lose anyone else out there. Jeremy managed to sneak out once, but he didn’t even make it to the woods. He made it half way through the field and came scurrying back, practically landing on his face as he dove into the backyard’s safety. He told me he’d almost stepped on a copperhead and felt something else slither behind him.

“This is the kind of shit I was thinking when a breeze circled around me, bringing me back to the present moment. The wind was strong enough to gently push the swing back and forth, and I didn’t immediately hear the low growling noise coming from directly below my feet. Surprised, I almost fell off trying to avoid the lizard that had emerged. It leapt at me, baring its needle-like teeth.

“I scrambled on top of the tire. Climbing the swing’s rope, I lifted myself another six feet in a matter of seconds. Undeterred, the little monster jumped onto the swing, locking claws on the tire’s sides, its sharp talons puncturing holes in the course of its pursuit.

“By now, I’d seen enough to realize I was in grave danger, and thoroughly regretted pursuing the little demon to begin with. As I climbed higher, I approached the large branch holding the swing’s rope. Meanwhile, the lizard scaled the swing and wrapped one claw around the rope. As if sensing the difficult task of climbing the rope, it glanced at the step boards nailed to the tree’s trunk. When it looked back at me, I got the queer sense it intended to scale the tree, if necessary.