Dead Surround - The Julia Poe Vampire Chronicles (13 page)

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“I have nothing against lesbians,” Romulo shrugged, “I rather encourage them, especially if the ladies are young. No offense.”

Maple ignored him. She found a small piece of cartridge. She sighed with relief.

“Romulo, you’re a vampire,” began Maclemar, changing the subject. “Why are you still downing that stuff?”

“I like the taste of whiskey, still do. Reminds me I was human once.”

Poe cleared her throat and asked, “Is Megan gonna be where we’re going?”

“Yes, she is,” Maple said curtly as she concentrated on her task. “They’ll have to suture the ruptured intestines at the HQ. I can’t see very well here.”

“Megan ain’t going nowhere,” Romulo snickered, twisting to look at Poe. “She’s about to burst.”

“What?”

“He means she’s pregnant,” explained Maple.

“She’s due in a week’s time.”

“She’s Sainvire’s grandniece,” explained the vampire with whiskey breath to Maclemar. “The two of them will get us all permanently killed.”

“What are you talking about?” Maple asked, frowning.

“We’re getting hunted like criminals. And like criminals we move from place to place like goddamn gypsies,” he fumed. “We ought to wage war and kill Trench’s henchmen and Newbitt’s people instead of running away all the time.”

“There aren’t enough of us,” Maple explained tiredly. “And we have the ex-cattle to think about.”

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“I say we ditch them. They’re all cured. They can fend for themselves, by damn!”

“They are our people now. We’ve got to take care of each other. Besides, more than half have already been placed into their new communities.”

“Bullshit!” he spat, and he hit the dashboard with a fist. “They’re liabilities. And whatever cows we have left are weak and useless to us. If Newbitt ever gets a whiff of where we’re hiding those fuckers, we’re all everlastingly dead. I’m hopping on the next ride outta this shithole when we get back.”

“They’re needed more than you think, Romulo,”

said Maclemar, winding his way out of a maze of trucks and cars. Some vehicles had been deliberately pushed onto the opposing lane to clear the road, but some remained to give Maclemar a solid pain in the ass. “There aren’t many daywalkers in your outfit, I hear. There’re the two of you and a handful of others, but the rest haven’t developed the ‘skill’ yet. The humans who guard these vampires during the day are in essence part of a symbiotic relationship, integral to the group’s survival.”

“That’s crap,” dismissed the vampire. He shooed Penny who’d stuck her head where the emergency brake poked up between the front seats. “Sainvire’s gone soft. Every time some dick gets recaptured, the master vampire falls into a depression. Well I say,

‘don’t cry over spilt milk.’”

“If you’re so gung ho about this, Romulo, how come I never hear you voice your concerns to Sainvire directly?” Maple asked tensely while disinfecting Jorge’s wound with fizzy oxygen peroxide. “You always rant at people who can’t do 112

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anything about the state of things. He’s an easy one to talk to and even easier man to find.”

“Maybe I will tell him. One of these days,”

Romulo muttered, clearly displeased at being called out. To change the subject he turned to the van’s driver. “Why did you decide to come ashore, Maclemar? I thought you were strictly drop and go, even with your cargo of fish.” Maclemar’s fresh and dried fish were usually kept inside five-gallon plastic drums and left along docks or attached to buoys.

Gasoline, clean water, and produce were left as payment for the seafood.

Poe narrowed her eyes. Maclemar didn’t have to come ashore with her.

“Figured it was time to look around,” he answered. He looked at the rear view mirror through his goggles.

“Look around, my aromatic asshole,” muttered Romulo. “You did it for a piece of ass!”

Maclemar’s brows connected in vehemence, but he waited a few seconds to compose himself. “Maple, does this guy have Tourettes or something?”

“Never thought of that, but your theory would explain a lot of things,” said the vampire who finally settled in the seat behind Jorge’s.

“Whatever Tourettes is, I still think you’ve got the hots for Sainvire’s girlfriend. That’s why you’re following her to Gilroy, the garlic capital of the world, where every new sock ends up smelling like last month’s moldy cheese,” Romulo said, throwing in his two cents. “Can’t wait for you to meet Sainvire.” He rubbed his hands in anticipation of conflict.

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“Nice one, pal,” Maclemar said. He scratched his closely cropped Roman hair. “However, I’ve already met the bloke. He asked me to guard cattle and sleeping vampires who couldn’t take the sun.”

“What did you say?” Poe asked from the back.

“I said that after eight years of incarceration, I preferred to go fishing,” he answered in a deadpan voice.

“Well then I can’t wait for the little girl to meet Sainvire’s honey. She’s a pretty master vamp from Nevada with the heart of Mother Teresa that melds perfectly with Sainvire’s missionary ego. The broad left her position to proselytize about Plasmacore to anyone with an ear. She’s a cute blonde with legs up to my neck, little girl. She’s going to break your heart.”

“Romulo,” said Maclemar in a threatening way as he looked at Poe’s tense face in the rear view mirror. “Shut the fuck up!”



It was a tiring ride that seemed to go on forever.

Because of the congested streets clogged with stranded automobiles and over a decade worth of waste, the journey east to Gilroy proved to be a creeping one. Hours had passed, and they’d yet to hit the land of the potent bulb. And through it all, Poe and Maclemar held their hunger at bay by eating energy bars replete with squirmy weevil and the last of the cotton candy batch she had been saving for a rainy day.

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“I don’t know about you lot, but my bladder’s engorged,” announced Maclemar. I need to stop and whish the plants.”

“That’s a good idea,” noted Maple who was checking Jorge’s vital statistics once more. Even under the deficient light Poe could tell that the man had a waxy look about him. The van smelled of body leakage and rot. The middle-aged vampire peeled open a new syringe and filled it with morphine. Poe took the opportunity to go outside with the dog.

Maclemar had carried the piglet with him for a “wee”

as he called it. She left Penny to her own devices and searched for a place to relieve her own bladder.

“Jorge’s going to die,” Poe whispered to herself as she did her business behind an upturned truck.

“The poor man. Seemed like a nice guy, too.”

A twig snap followed by a loud thump jarred Poe to finish sooner than expected.

“Who’s there?”

“The moon is fickle,” somebody said startlingly near. “It shows itself once in a while, but mostly it hides behind the clouds. Don’t worry. It’s well veiled now. I can’t see a thing.”

“Romulo, you fucking pervert!” she hissed. Her hands shook. She had no love for night, but she respected it enough for the privacy it offered.

“Just making sure nothing creepy jumps out at you,” he drawled. “I’ve seen creatures weirder than Revs around here.”

“Are you sure you didn’t see your own reflection, asshole?”

“Nope. This is what I saw, pretty girl,” he said.

He threw something creaky her way.

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Poe stepped back and shone a small penlight on the crumpled bones before her. They were no bigger than a small dog.

“Not exactly a Rev, but it’s close enough. Better turn that light off before you attract any more of

’em.”

Poe could almost see the shit-for-fangs smiling.

The bones of baby vamps replete with teeth and pointy hands definitely gave her the creeps.

“Now aren’t you glad I peeked?” he said, rubbing it in.

In her haste to reach the van, she nearly mowed down Maclemar.

“Whoa there,” he said, placing a restraining hand on her arm. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said. She brushed away his concern and ducked inside the van with the dog following closely behind. She filled Penny’s Tupperware from her pack with water. She gave the dog and pig some jerky. “Maple, am I allowed to blow Romulo’s brains out for being a pervert?”

“I don’t see why not,” Maple answered after two seconds of deliberation. “Seeing that he’s the most annoying person here, I’d say it’s a good idea.”

“Hilarious,” said Romulo who strapped in his seatbelt in imitation of Maclemar. He fluffed his flaxen hair and tried to part it in the middle. The jungle of hair stayed shrub-like and unmanageable.

“I’m indispensable. You said so yourself, Maple. I’m one of the few left who can sunbathe during the day.

It’s not my fault enemy combatants have weeded the rest.”

Half an hour into the drive, Jorge’s heart gave out.

The passengers, even the loquacious and obnoxious, 116

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were shocked into silence when Maple broke the news. Wracked with guilt at the torture she’d committed that afternoon on a leech, Poe bit her lip to keep from bawling. The man with the shiny head had died from the same stomach wound as Jorge.

I shouldn’t have pulled his intestines out. I
shouldn’t have made it personal. Bad karma.

All traces of grief ended when the van hit something bulky. Maclemar brought the van to a stop.

“What was that?” asked Maple.

“An animal maybe?” supplied Poe hopefully.

“No animal, girlie,” said Romulo Gutierrez. “My little eyes see a very hungry wilderness vampire brushing dirt off himself. And he has tag-along friends, so I suggest you drive as fast as you can, Maclemar.”

The Welshman didn’t need to be told twice. He revved the old van and swerved whenever he encountered automobiles. Poe put on her night vision goggles and saw five undernourished undead running next to the van and banging on its sides. She pulled an Astra automatic from her pack. Before she could crack the window open, Maple stayed her hand.

“No, Poe. Use a gun with a silencer. We don’t want any more of them following us.”

Poe nodded and rummaged through her bag. She found a silencer for her Beretta, but before she could screw it on, a hand punched through the driver’s side window and grabbed Maclemar’s shirt.

“Fer fuck’s sake!” he yelled, his accent deepening. “Geteroffme!” The van banked left and banged into a car. Maclemar did his best to straighten the van and keep driving.

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Poe screwed in the silencer, leaned close to Maclemar’s head, and fired at the undead. She adjusted the Star Wars-like goggles and with her green sight pulverized the vampire in the head. Maple rolled her window down a few inches and fired at a leathery undead, insane from lack of food. She hit him in the stomach. The creature fell on the ground screaming like he was getting autopsied alive.

“There’s three more, Poe.”

One appeared before them and threw a heavy fender at the windshield. It startled Maclemar so much that he crashed into a jackknifed produce truck.

The engine died.

“Do something, sheep-shagger! They’re coming!” said Gutierrez harshly.

“Listen, boyo, I’m trying,” said Maclemar. He turned the ignition, but the engine merely coughed. “I don’t see you helping the women out.”

“That’s because I don’t have a silencer,” he sneered.

The fender-throwing undead punched holes in the windows. Glass scattered inside. Poe said,

“Excuse me” to Jorge’s body before she hopped over his extended legs. The van shook amidst Maclemar’s cursing.

“Thank you, my beauty!” said Maclemar when the engine hummed back to life. “Get the bastard that broke my windshield, please.”

“I’m on it,” said Poe. She lowered the window and aimed at the leather critter holding a second fender in his hands.
Now
, said the voice in her mind. Poe pulled the trigger and hit the blood-deprived vampire in the heart. To its left side emerged another vampire throwing rocks at the van while running to keep up.

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Poe squinted and fired, catching the undead in the head.

“One more, Poe,” said Maple who wasted most of her bullets hitting nothing. She was taking pains to kill the fastest vampire of the lot.

Poe saw it, naked, bony, and hung like her neighbor’s ratty Marmaduke pooch. He was walking toward Maclemar with a tire iron. Poe launched herself toward the front of the van, vaulting over Jorge’s dead body and landing on the emergency brake between Maclemar and Gutierrez. She aimed through the hole in the window and fired twice. Glass scattered as Poe hit the dead in the eye and heart.

“That’s my girl,” said Maclemar with relief. He pulled Poe by the shoulders and landed a deep, grateful kiss on her cheek.

“So that’s why Sainvire wants you back. You’re a superhero,” said Gutierrez sarcastically.

“And don’t you forget that, Jorge,” said Maple.

“Yeah, or I’ll shove my Welsh foot up your alcoholic ass,” seconded Maclemar.



It was dawn when the van pulled into an impressive barn, the red kind used in Superman films but four times the size, with haylofts and animal stalls. Instead of horses, however, sleeping bodies occupied the hutches and cubbyholes. Several trucks and buses were parked neatly in two straight lines. The air was crisp but tolerable with the redolence of acrid garlic blossoms. The scent made everyone’s eyes water with the exception of Maple. It was like sniffing freshly sliced onions.

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“I may be an intrepid daywalker, but I gotta confess that I can’t abide the smell of garlic. It makes me weak-kneed like my Johnson’s about to get shaved,” said Romulo. “To build tolerance to garlic, I’d have to get inoculated by its essence and fight permanent death until my body gets used to it.” He tied a yellow bandana bandito-style to cover his nose.

The vampire looked like a train robber.

Nobody acknowledged him. Any odor was better than the smell of the liquid oozing out of the dead man’s mangled intestines. Maclemar and Poe had been fighting off nausea the last hour of the drive.