Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles (10 page)

His leaf-colored eyes narrowed and spit negative sparks her way. The man was doubtless irritated.

“Gah, Sharren! Hasn’t anyone told you that it’s not polite to handle a man’s gun without asking first?

And it’s rude to shove it where it could de-man him?”

Who’s Sharren?
Before she could ask or explain herself, Maclemar put a finger to his lips. Penny’s throat emitted a low growl. Poe tapped the dog’s nose to keep it from making any further noise. The traumatized piglet sat quietly munching on bark next to the mutt. Chops had become their shadow and was never far from Poe or the dog.

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Crunching leaves and the rub of trodden earth alerted both humans. From the sound of it, more than one set of footsteps was approaching.

Quietly parting the curtain of vines that knitted itself on the dead tree, Poe held her breath. Two men and a woman casually strolled their way. Poe squinted to get a better look through the shadow of the opulent tree canopy.

The one in front, a short-necked, deeply tanned man in skin-tight bicycle shorts, took vigilant steps.

He carefully avoided trudging on any overlarge protrusions on the ground. With a number 94 tacked on his Kevlar vest, his tour de force outfit made him an easy target. His tadpole belly stretched over tight green spandex that didn’t quite blend him into the natural landscape. He held two 9mm Browning pistols with the barrels pointing skyward in his sweaty hands like they were knives.

Behind loomed a taller man with a whoosh of blonde hair that looked as if it had never mated with the bristles of a brush. Though quite slim, he had a belly of one who enjoyed regular doses of Chivas Regal and Johnnie Walker. His searching eyes never missed even a fallen acorn. His hairy paws clutched a shotgun, nicked and discolored from use. From the way his brows drew together like two check marks, the man appeared angry at the world.

The tall woman in the rear kept a few paces back. Her slow, assured steps broached a confidence only a person in her later years could cultivate. She was the type a smart bloke would like to have on his side. Despite a fawn-colored Stetson that kept her profile in the dark, Poe’s stomach muscles clenched.

Do I know her?

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The woman’s manner of walk, self-assured and easy, nagged at her memory. Unlike her tense companions, she exuded calm. Not until the woman tipped back her hat and trained her serene brown eyes to the island of ivy where Poe peeked from did the light of recognition flicker.

Maple.

This was Maple, the middle-aged vampire with arms that transformed into powerful mallets at will.

Her unassuming, schoolmarm façade had been the death of many a foe. She was one of Sainvire’s most trusted comrades. Maple loved the human scientist called Perla who had helped develop Plasmacore.

With one dignified wave Maple smiled at the figure hiding behind foliage.
X-ray vision
? Poe slowly blinked three times then stood up.

“Whaddya think you’re doin’, Sharren?” asked Maclemar roughly, his accent thickening. He captured her wrist bulging with knife and sheath and pulled her down. The two men pointed guns in their direction.

Poe resisted Maclemar’s hold. She looked down at her companion whose face registered anxiety and gently tugged her hand free.

“The name’s Poe, not Sharren. Maple’s a friend,” she said confidently. “We’re safe with her.”

Unsure, Maclemar didn’t move and pointed his gun from behind the small bush at the two men.

“Maple,” Poe said with care. She scrambled over the tree trunk and walked with a quiet smile to where Maple stood. Penny and Chops quickly shuffled up to join them.

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“Poe. It’s been a long time,” Maple said affectionately. She held out her arms and Poe walked into the warmest embrace she’d had in a long time.

“Thank you for bringing her, Maclemar. It’s good to finally meet you,” said Maple, squeezing Poe’s shoulders one last time. “You’re a legend with your catch and for carrying hot cargo.”

Maclemar nodded but kept silent. He looked at Poe who was rubbing Penny and Chops on the belly.

Poe felt his stare and stood up.”

“So you’re leaving now?” she asked. She kicked herself for sounding melancholy.

Maclemar shrugged, but before he could answer, Maple said, “You should go. Otherwise you won’t have enough light to swim back to your boat.” His eyes stayed on Poe and memorized her face.

“Bye then,” Poe said, holding out her hand. The bruise on her wrist from the shackle glared at him.

“Thanks for everything.”

He didn’t extend his hand and turned away to face Maple. “I’m going with you.”

Maple looked at the Poe then at the Welshman who stood with resolve. “It’s a dangerous time, Maclemar. We could use all the hands we can get, but it’s not a fishing trip.”

“Don’t worry, Maple. I’m in desperate need of vacation,” he said, and he smiled at Poe. “Too long on a boat can stir a man crazy.”



“You lost quite a bit of weight since the last time I saw you,” Poe commented as she followed her guides through the heart of the forest. The woman had been 85

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as stocky and thick-bodied as a sack of grain. “I didn’t think vampires could change their appearance so drastically.”

“Well it’s been a difficult two years, Poe,” the vampire explained patiently. “It’s no pleasure cruise having every vampire in the state hunting us for reward. You’d be surprised how many would try. The promise of a cattle farm can goad even the most cowardly of vampires to come after us. I think you’ll find many of us much changed.”

Even Sainvire?

“What about the cattle we rescued?”

“Many have died on us,” she said with a strained smile. “They couldn’t handle the constant change of venue. Some turned Revenent and were terminated.

Quite a few were stolen back during skirmishes. And the survivors needed time to revive and had to be hidden from place to place.”

Most victims succumbed to a year-long stupor, and while in this pliant drugged state, vampires harvested their blood. Poe had helped some of these unfortunates escape from Downtown L.A., and their release proved to be a trial, indeed. It was like prodding a mannequin to take a first step.

“Is everybody okay? Joseph, Morales, Megan, Perla?”

Poe couldn’t quite say his name.

“Most of us live,” she said, her lips tightening.

“But like I said, many of us have changed.”

“Guys, I think we should cut the talking. At least until we’re out of the woods,” Jorge Lechuga cautioned, his vigilance comically upturned by his green spandex.

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“Still think we’re being followed, Maple?” asked Romulo Gutierrez, pushing his wheat-colored bangs off his face. He was a vampire who could walk in daylight, a talent Plasmacore made possible after prolonged intake. “Ya sure it ain’t deer or squirrel?

’Cause there seems to be an explosion of them out here. There’s four of them now,” he said while pointing at a buck and his three girlfriends.

The wilderness fauna seemed to have exponentially burst the egg sack. The results were a new generation of deer, squirrels, coyotes, and critters little afraid of humans whom they scarcely encountered the past decade.

“There’s no doubt about it. They’ve been on our tail probably since we got here,” she answered with a nod. “They’re just waiting for a ripe time to get us.

We should maintain silence like Jorge said.”

“No reckless shooting, kid,” Romulo cautioned Poe, his permanently angry brows drawn.

“Remember to shoot them, not us.”

You should be telling that to the Welshman, jerk
.

She was about to verbalize something emphatically rude when Maple spoke for her.

“She’s the best shot I’ve ever seen, even among vampires with superior eyesight,” Maple said with grave seriousness. “Lay off her.”

“So it’s not all myth. The blurb on her wanted poster,” he said with a smirk.

Most every California city had a barrage of posters glued on walls and street lights. The computer likeness of her face, no doubt put together by Trench’s police henchmen, bore an exaggeratingly thick centipede scar that would make Poe’s ego seethe if she were to see it. There was even a 87

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sentence that said:
Perp is riddled with scars and is
very very dangerous.

“I mean, she’s human and so puny to be the second most wanted after Sainvire. Even over you, Maple. You’re number four! It just seems like a joke.”

Poe could stand many things, but not a crack about her height or frame. Her height was a sore point because both her parents were taller than average. Her growth had no doubt been stunted due to malnutrition and from years of eating expired canned foods. Living in constant fear since she was eight years old didn’t help her bones stretch vertically toward the sun, either. Her hands shook. She had a feral urge to dropkick the vampire with alcohol breath and brownish yellow teeth. Already in tune with the girl’s mercurial moods, Maclemar put a restraining hand on her shoulder. He stared pointedly at Romulo and said, “Y coc oen!” Literally it meant the pubic hair of a llama. Or wanker for short.

“Jorge is right. We should all zip our cakeholes and be vigilant,” Maclemar finished in a stretched voice.

“You should tell the pig and the dog,”

complained Romulo.

“They won’t make a peep,” assured Maclemar.

Silence fell immediately. They held their weapons closely and followed Jorge, the human guide, as quietly as possible. His stealthy ways and knowledge of the woods impressed Poe and especially Maclemar who earlier had dismissed the spandex-wearer as a bloody poof.

The forest dimmed the longer they trekked. They had another two hours of light and they had to put 88

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distance between them and the state park. It wouldn’t have been smart to drive on unpredictable highways and backroads in the dark.

Jorge paused and raised his arm to halt. With a look he beckoned Maple over. On tiptoes he whispered in the taller woman’s ear. Maple nodded without expression and headed to the small meadow ahead.

Jorge gestured for the group to huddle. Poe decided she liked his open, beardless face. In the softest voice he could muster, the man whispered,

“Sorry but some vamps have Jaime Sommers hearing. For you young ones who’ve never heard of her, she’d be the Bionic Woman. Anyway, the glade coming up is the perfect place for an ambush. It’s ten minutes from where our van is parked. Lots of overgrown bushes, hedges, and juts for cover, but we could still be easy pickings. I’m pretty damn sure this is where it’s going to happen. Maple’s climbing for a better view. Prepare yourselves. Keep to the trees.

They’re banking on picking us off in the clearing.

And Poe, I’ve got an extra Kevlar in my bag. It’s huge but better than nothing.”

The motley crew heeded his advice, and they clutched their weapons of choice like winning lottery tickets. It was a sinking feeling to know that in ten minutes all five of them could die. Jorge tossed the extra bulletproof vest to Poe.

She silently mouthed a thank you to Jorge who she later learned had founded two organizations dedicated to getting more bicycles than cars on the road in Oakland. The more benign of the two was Bike Not Car that mainly participated in pro-bicycle rallies and costumed bike rides on Sundays. Later he 89

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put together a clandestine die-hard group of cyclists that randomly punctured automobile tires to make a glaring point. It was called Pedal or You’re Cheddar.

Instead of putting on the vest, Poe handed it to Maclemar. She figured he’d need it more than her.

“No way,” he said inaudibly. “You wear it.”

With a hard stare Poe grabbed the neck of his sweatshirt until her lips were next to his left ear. She whispered, “I have experience. Put the damn thing on. It’s too big for me anyway.” Impatiently she took his arm and began shoving it in the arm hole of the vest. Ticked, the Welshman pushed her hands away.

Once Maclemar suited up she removed the two guns from her shoulder holster. The left hand clutched the Walther PPK she had nicknamed James after 007, and the right one held a lightweight Glock that carried 17 rounds per magazine.

The girl was ambidextrous and a pretty steady shot with both hands.
My only talent
, she thought wryly.
And sometimes I miss
.” She thought of the human cattle she had shot accidentally out of misplaced confidence.

Never shoot unless you’re sure, Poe
, she told herself.
You’re 24, and you can’t use your youth as
an excuse for screwing up anymore.

Followed closely by Chops, Penny sidled up to Poe and scratched her leg with a paw. The mute dog, looking worried, blinked up at her. She bent down and kissed the mutt on the forehead and patted the rosy pig on the rump. As if the animals could understand, Poe put a silencing finger to her lips.

A flurry of bullets erupted ahead of them, jolting each one to action. Maple was in the crossfire. Jorge deferred leadership to Romulo who stepped up to the 90

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plate. He had more experience being Sainvire’s top henchman and head of security in the Bay Area.

“Split up,” he ordered. “They can’t box us in that way. You and the girl go left. Jorge and I will take the right.
Entiendes
?”

With a hiss Poe answered with viciousness brought on by the moment, “
Sí, cabrón
!” She didn’t like the way he omitted her name and referred to her as “the girl.” In fact his pheromones didn’t click with her essence, period.

She heard Romulo’s nasal chuckle as she and Maclemar sped left. Poe was a quarter Mexican and her knowledge of Spanish was limited to numbers and swear words. It felt good to practice on a prick like Romulo.

“Lay low,” she ordered, and she told Maclemar to take cover behind two-ton boulders that ensconced trash and recycling bins for the park. How her words rang true as bullets nearly decimated his head. His height and build were distinct bulls-eye signs for the opposition. Shots continued sporadically at the once popular meadow that had brimmed with park visitors.