On a dusty road somewhere in New England, Samuel and his two child companions set forth for New York. It would easily be a week’s journey likely filled with perils such as bandits, war zones and scorching summer heat. Though these were all terrible things in their own right, and posed exceptional risks, Samuel’s biggest concern was alcohol withdrawal.
Sweat had already covered him by sunrise. By mid-morning the shakes began. Close to noon fog filled his mind and now his vision blurred. Granted, he was old hat to this devil-lust, but in the past more booze was always just a short ride away. The issue now was that it was many miles between towns, maybe even a day at times.
“How far until New York?” Corn asked.
Samuel had placed the children on Corn’s emaciated horse named Oats. He knew the kids would complain within an hour if they were forced to walk, so in order to keep his withdrawal headaches at a minimum he tossed them on the disheveled thing’s back and allowed them off only for bathroom breaks.
“Five or six days,” Samuel responded.
“We’ll need more food,” Lily said.
“And water,” Corn added.
“Yeah, it’s really hot out,” Lily said. “Can I just have a little? I’m thirsty.”
“We need to ration it,” Samuel said.
“But I’m thirsty,” Lily reiterated.
“We’re all thirsty,” Samuel replied. “We’ll get more when we reach the next town.”
“But when will that be?” Corn asked.
“A couple hours,” Samuel lied, praying they’d at least reach it by sunset.
“But it’s already been a whole day!” Lily cried.
“It’s hardly after noon,” Samuel said. “You can wait.”
He wiped sweat from his brow as Lily groaned. Ten years ago he would have ditched these kids and just taken the horse, but he’d grown soft as of late — filled with a sort of conscience in his middle-age. Miserable thing, that.
“Who’s the guy you’re looking for?” Corn asked, then with an air of disdain he added, “He’s a Tory?”
“Long ago,” Samuel replied, “He’s an old friend who should be able to help me,” Samuel replied, wincing at the notion of calling that man friend.
“But he’s a bad guy,” Lily said. “He fights for the Crown.
“His allegiance is to himself,” Samuel said.
“How do you know him?” Lily asked.
“I used to hunt with him,” Samuel said.
“Boar?” Corn said.
“Far worse,” Samuel replied, then he finally turned to them and lowered his chin. “Monsters.”
Corn and Lily’s eyes narrowed in unison.
“There’s no such thing as monsters,” Lily said skeptically.
Samuel turned to face the road again and replied, “Oh, quite the contrary. When I was a boy, Francis rescued my brother and I from vampires.”
“No way!” Corn cried.
“I’ll tell the story if you listen,” Samuel said as distant memories flashed through his mind: a full moon shining through frosted windows; shouts and screams coming from below a stairwell; the acrid stench of blood.
“We won’t believe you,” Lily said.
“Well then I won’t tell it,” Samuel replied.
“No!” Corn argued. “Don’t listen to her! I’m so bored!”
Samuel turned again and met Lily’s eyes. “Well?” he asked.
Lily shrugged. “Fine.”
Samuel smirked and turned to the road again. Telling this would help him concentrate, he figured. Help him not to collapse as this barren road curved and slithered endlessly beneath the scorching summer sun.
“I was ten,” Samuel began, “And my brother was twelve—”
“You have a brother?” Lily asked.
“I do,” Samuel replied.
“Let me tell the story,” Corn whined.
“Ok, sorry,” Lily said.
“Though he was my senior,” Samuel continued, “I had always been the stronger brother, the bolder one.” He turned his head halfway in their direction. “Do either of you have siblings?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw them shake their heads. He turned back to the road and continued, “Well you won’t understand then, but to be younger and looked up to for guidance from an elder sibling is a curious thing.
Anyhow, it was a cold, moonlit night. Snow had dusted the field around our home, shimmering like a long, white blanket. We had gone to bed, my brother and I, watching flakes skitter by our frosted bedroom window. It had been a cozy winter, by all accounts. Just weeks passed Christmas with all its joy. But in the dead of night we awoke to sounds of struggle and screams from the first floor—”
“Wait, is this a scary story?” Lily interrupted.
“It’s about monsters,” Corn said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s not only scary, but true,” Samuel said.
“Just let him tell it,” Corn said.
“I’ll cover my ears if it gets too scary,” Lily said.
“Whatever you want to do,” Samuel said before continuing.
“We heard the screams but stayed in our beds for a long while, glancing at each other terrified in the dark. There was hissing, shouts, banging, the bark of furniture scraping against the floor — then silence.Finally, I emerged from the warmth of my bed and set my feet upon the cold wood floor.
‘Don’t’, my brother whispered.
But I replied, ‘They might be in trouble,’ referring to our parents. Robbers were rare where we lived, but not unheard of.
I crept across the floor, careful to avoid the wooden boards that groaned. I crouched at our door, carefully twisted its iron knob and opened it with the slightest creak.
‘What do you hear?’ my brother asked.
I turned to him and replied, ‘Nothing.’
‘Maybe they’re ok then?’ he said.
‘We won’t know unless we go down,’ I said.
I opened the door wider as my brother crawled from his bed. He crouched behind me and shivered.
Just beyond our door was a stairwell that led to the first floor. It was then that I heard a faint growl and a hint of a hiss bellow from below. I turned to my brother and pressed one finger to my lips. I remember in that moment hating the notion that I was the stronger one of us. Just once I wished he could play the role of brave older brother.
I crept out from the doorway, into a hallway lit by the pale white of the moon which sat wide eyed against the dreamless black beyond—”
“Do you have to talk like that?” Lily interrupted
Samuel turned to her and said, “Like what?”
“All flowery and stuff,” she said. “I’m not even scared. I’m just bored.”
“I like it,” Corn replied matter-of-factly. “I think it adds tension.”
“Some day you’ll both make fine teachers I’m sure,” Samuel said with a chuckle, then he turned back to the road and continued his story.
“There I was, my brother and I, at the top of the stairs. Below us was a faint flicker of orange from a dying hearth. Beyond the glow, nestled in the darkness, was the sound of slurping, groaning, and the brief dragging of boots. I remember the sounds terribly well: slurp, crunch, groan, slurp, crunch, groan followed by leather dragging across wood. It was a miserable symphony, I’ll tell you. Something like a butcher gnawing at meat with only his teeth.
I turned to my brother and slowly pointed down the staircase. He shook his head with eyes wide and terror-filled. But I nodded and took that first step down, placing my bare foot on the cold wood followed by another, then another.
Slowly we crept down the stairs together, searching the dark with feeble eyes. The slurping grew louder, the grunts more guttural. Finally at the bottom of the steps I turned and found an impish creature near our front door leaning over my father who lay perfectly still. The terrible being was pale, hairless and clothed only in rags. Its ears were pointed. Its face was covered in blood and slimy veins wrenched from my father’s neck dangled from its jagged teeth. The thing pecked at my father, ripping at his throat and sucking the life from him like an animal—“
“I have to pee,” Lily suddenly blurted.
“Now?” Corn barked. “It’s finally getting good!”
“We can stop at this fork,” Samuel said, nodding at a tree just ahead which split the road in two.
They stopped at the side of the road and Lily clumsily climbed off the horse and plunked onto the dirt. Insects hummed around them. Birds chirped and squirrels barked. Samuel figured there wasn’t a soul for miles and miles. Only them alone in this bushwhacked patch of wilderness.
“Where are we?” Lily asked, eyeing swaying trees which lined the makeshift road.
“No idea,” Sanuel replied. “All I know is we’re headed south.”
He noticed his legs were less wobbly than when he’d started his tale and for a moment he wondered if he really needed more whiskey. Maybe he could just make due with water when they reached this mystery town. Maybe he could finally fight this miserable lust and win after all these years. But then a sharp, knife-like stab drilled into his brain, just behind his eye socket, and he pressed his palm against it.
“I’ll go over here,” Lily called out, already entering the dense woods.
Samuel waved to her as he and Corn turned away.
“So vampires killed your parents?” Corn whispered.
Samuel nodded, still pressing his palm against his eye and cringing.
“Is there water beside you?” Samuel asked through clenched teeth.
Corn leaned over the horse and examined the various satchels and burlap bags strung to the saddle. He reached for a sack and pulled at its drawstring.
“Not that,” Samuel barked, realizing the kid was reaching for the cursed book he’d stuffed into the bag. “Try the one beside it.”
“But what’s in that one?” Corn asked, still holding the top of the burlap sack, ready to plunge his grubby hands inside.
“My personal effects,” Samuel said, not knowing what would happen if anyone else handled the book. “I don’t touch your stuff, so don’t touch mine.”
Corn shrugged and riffled through the satchel beside the sack, then he pulled out an animal skin canteen and handed it to Samuel.
Samuel popped the stopper from the bladder and tilted the opening to his lips. As he slurped up the murky water inside, he eyed the sun which was just slid past the top of the world, leaning now toward its dreamful rest. They would need to pick up the pace, he thought, if they were to make it to this town by nightfall.
“Is that water?” Lily asked as she crunched back toward them from the woods.
Samuel nodded and handed her the little bladder.
“Just a sip,” Samuel warned.
The girl eyed him and lifted the water bag up and down, weighing it.
“You just drank half of it!” she cried.
“I’m bigger than you,” Samuel replied.
The child huffed and took three large gulps before releasing a satisfied, ahhh.
“Can I have some?” Corn said.
“There’s hardly any left,” Lily replied as she handed him the thing. Corn took the near empty canteen, frowned at its vacancy, then he tipped it over his mouth and tongued at the last few trickles that remained.
“What about Oats?” Corn said, patting the horse’s mane.
“He’ll be fine until we get to town,” Samuel said. “I’m sure whatever inn is there will have plenty of water.” And whiskey, he prayed.
“Help me up,” Lily said to Samuel, then she held her arms up.
“Corn can lift you,” Samuel said as he turned from them and took the reins of their exhausted horse.
Lily grumbled as Corn struggled to pull her back onto the horse. After a few attempts, she finally shimmied into position behind Corn and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was smaller than him, but not by much. Samuel figured they were only a couple years apart in age.
“Where was I?” he asked as they continued their slow journey through the quiet woods.
“You just saw the vampire,” Corn said.
“Your story’s not that scary,” Lily said. “I haven’t put my hands over my ears once.”
“You will now,” Samuel replied, then continued with his tale. “The impish thing was over my father, tearing at his throat. We stared at it, my brother and I, frozen with fear. We watched my father’s legs twitch. His fingers spasmed. His eyes were wide open, watching the emaciated, pale monster lash at his neck with jagged teeth.
My brother tugged on my night shirt and whispered, ‘We have to run.’ But then the monster screeched and flicked its head up to look at us with rich, black eyes. The air seemed to suck from the room as we watched a long string of blood drip from the creature’s crimson-drenched mouth. Suddenly, the monster screamed and lunged at my brother and I. I leapt to the side and pulled him with me just before the beast snatched him.
We ran in circles inside our home as the monster crawled after us on the walls and ceiling, howling and screeching like an animal. We jumped over chairs and threw anything we could at the thing. Mind you, our home was a humble one, small in size with few trappings. After a couple laps around the living room, the monster leapt onto the dining and screamed an ear splitting cry, trapping us.
‘Dad’s gun!’ my brother yelled when suddenly the monster leapt through the air and tackled him to the ground. I raced to our door where our father’s musket leaned against the wall. Now remember, I’m nigh ten years old, so father’s gun was nearly as tall as I. But nevertheless I pulled it from its resting place and struggled to aim it at the creature’s belly as the monster snarled and spit in my brother’s horrified face. But when I pulled the trigger all it did was click. I pulled it again, click. Nothing.
‘Sam!’ my brother cried out.
The beast thrashed its terrible claws at his face, tearing a gash across him from hairline to chin. So I jumped at the monster, hitting it with the gun over and over until it simply reached out its slender hand, picked me up by collar and threw me against a wall with such force that all the wind in my lungs poured out in one breath.
I gasped for air as my brother cried, as the monster howled, as my father lay dying by the smoldering hearth. The acrid stench of blood wreaked the air. Pieces of furniture were scattered across the floor. I was helpless and I knew that after watching this monster rip my brother to shreds, I would be next.
But then the front door beside me blew open with a cannon ball’s might. Splinters sprayed through the air as a man entered, garbed in a long, red military coat. He held a silver hatchet in one hand and a wooden dagger in the other, both covered in etchings of what I could only describe as ancient runes. Pale moonlight shimmered behind him, illuminating snowflakes which swirled in the startled air.
The stranger glanced at me, then at my brother who kicked helplessly at the monster snarling over him. The man then roared and lunged at the creature. The two wrestled, kicked and screamed. The stranger threw the being atop the dining table which broke the table’s wooden legs and sent it crashing to the floor.
Overtop the beast, the man raised his wooden dagger and plunged it deep into the heart of the monster. It clutched its chest, trying to grab at the weapon and pull it from its breast as red veins pulsed across its pale skin. Black bile suddenly erupted from its mouth, drenching the stranger as he pinned the beast in place while it convulsed and howled. Finally the vampire exploded, spraying flesh and blood across the whole of our tarnished home, covering everyone and everything in crimson.
Panting, the stranger picked up his stake from the ground and wiped it clean with his coat before holstering it in his belt. He cleared his face of bile, then turned to me as I remained motionless against the wall.
With a glint of remorse on his face, a face half lit by the hearth’s orange glow and the other by a cold moon, he said to me, ‘I heard your mother’s screams while I passed along the road. I couldn’t save her from her wounds, but she told me her two boys were still alive in the house.’ He turned to my brother who clutched his bleeding face. ‘I’ll patch you up, but we can’t stay here. You both must come with me and leave this place behind you.’
At sunrise we buried our parents and set fire to the home, burning it to the ground along with any evidence of what transpired. And from that moment on, I was indebted to the man known as Francis Edmund Swift, a monster hunter in the employ of the Crown and his Majesty’s army. The man we will hopefully find in New York.”
Only the clop of horse hooves filled the air as Samuel ended his story.
“Was that all true?” Corn asked, his face pale.
“More or less,” Samuel replied, having embellished some details slightly.
“Is it over?” Lily asked, her hands over her ears.
“Yes,” Samuel said.
“So vampires are real?” Corn asked.
“Yes,” Samuel said. “Along with werewolves, fae, demons, and other damndable creatures. Our human species, I hate to say, is just one of many who share this Earth.”
“And you hunt them?” Lily said.
“Only the bad ones,” Samuel replied, then pointed at a southward leaning sign which read, Shady Nook Hamlet. “Not long now.”
Yet as they continued down the slender road, the sun above sliding ever-westward, Samuel caught a whiff of burnt flesh and embers: tendrils of memories long ago.