The Fabulous Beast (17 page)

Monsters X 3

Chuck had just finished reading one of the many vampire novels from his uncle’s shelves of horror books. He seemed to be in a reflective mood and Alice wondered whether she ought to speak. Chuck’s temper was uncertain and she had interrupted his thinking before, with nasty results. Sometimes she wondered why she loved him so much, but then on occasion he could be generous and kind, when the mood was on him. Besides, she had no one else. Her father, mother and sister had all been killed in a car crash.

Finally, she decided to risk it.  ‘Chuck, what are you thinking?’

The blond-haired, blue-eyed young man with the face of Michelangelo’s ‘David’ turned to stare at her. Then he smiled. It was a sweet, cherubic smile with no malice behind it whatsoever. It warmed her heart.  They had met at college after he had given her just such a smile during a tutorial on William Blake’s ‘madness’.

‘Nothin’ much,’ he said.  ‘I was just wondering . . .’

Chuck and Alice were housesitting for Chuck’s uncle. They were on the deck – or what Alice would normally call a verandah. Down below them the waves were gently licking the shoreline with wet tongues.  There were the scents of lush foliage with hat-sized blossoms wafting over the house; and deep-seated damp smells of rain-soaked moss permeating through; and earthy-treebark odours drifting by.  Alice could hear the tree-frogs singing, the crickets chirruping and the occasional thrashing of a monitor lizard amongst dry leaves at the back of the garden.

Alice was sitting in a rattan chair letting the warm evening air stroke her skin. Chuck was at her feet, on a raffia rug, restlessly plucking at the waistband of his swimming shorts.

The house was just up from the beach on the Caribbean Island of St Vincent.  Chuck’s uncle had gone to live there after an early retirement. It was a pleasant island, with sandy beaches, rainforest and balmy nights. So far the pair of them had had a good time and had even managed to make some friends. There was a group of young people they met in the Diabolo Coffee Bar in the nearby town. Alice had drunk rum for the first time and though she had not liked the taste she was lucky, as Chuck had told her she should be, to be able to appreciate the experience.  They had been on long sandy-beach walks, enjoyed swimming in the blue sea, and generally had a relaxing lovely time.

‘What were you wondering, Chuck?’

He lay back on the deck of the house, his laced hands forming a cradle for the back of his head.

‘I was wondering what happens to a vampire if it
doesn’t
get human blood to drink.’

Alice thought about those vampire movies she had seen, and novels she had read, and she started wondering too.

‘Maybe it dies?’ she said, simply.

‘It can’t just
die
. It’s already dead. Or at least, it’s undead, which is something between the two, I guess. A vampire’s immortal, isn’t it? Unless it’s destroyed by fire or gets a stake through the heart. No, it won’t just die, like we do. It’ll be something pretty dramatic, you can bet on that.’

‘I suppose so.’

Suddenly Chuck sat upright and stared up at Alice.

‘Hey!’ he said. ‘I’ve got a great idea. How about we catch a vampire? Yeah. Let’s trap one and study it for ourselves. It’d be fun.’

‘Chuck,’ replied Alice, nervously. ‘You can’t catch vampires just like that. I mean, don’t they live in Eastern Europe? How would you do it?’

‘Stupid. One of the locals told me they have a variety of vampire here,’ he said. ‘A West Indian type. Vampires cover the world now. Don’t you read? They emigrated with our ancestors. They’re definitely in the southern states of USA – Mississippi, Georgia, Kentucky – and in South America too. Naturally there’s some here, on the Caribbean Islands too, looking for the blood of young virgins to drink. We could catch ourselves a real live – well, unlive – vampire, and watch what happens when it doesn’t get any blood to drink.’

‘Chuck – it’d starve.’

‘Yeah, but what happens when it starves, that’s what I’d like to know.’

His eyes were shining with enthusiasm. When Chuck became passionate about an idea there was no turning him from it.

‘How – how would we catch it?’

‘I’ve just thought of that,’ Chuck said, hugging his knees. ‘My uncle’s got a shark cage with his subaqua gear, in the shed at the back of the house where he keeps his boat. We could bolt the sections together and use the cage to trap the vampire. I’m pretty good with metalwork. I’ll make some barbs for the bottom ends of the bars.’

Alice was unsure about all this. It seemed a sudden and reckless scheme.

‘Isn’t a shark cage made to keep sharks
out
? To protect the swimmer inside the bars?’

‘Out – in – what difference does it make? We bait the trap and wait for the vampire. When it descends out of the sky to take the bait, we drop the cage on it.  Simple as that.
Voila
! We have our creature of the night.’

‘But,’ said Alice, ‘what do we use for bait . . .?’

Later that night, actually about two in the morning, Alice was lying spread-eagled under a large tree on the front lawn.  She looked down at her wan arms and legs, stark in the soft gentle moonlight of the tropical evening. Chuck had pricked her neck with a needle. There was a single drop of blood there, like a smooth, bright ruby, clinging to the pale skin of her throat.

Chuck was hidden behind the corner of the house with a release mechanism in his right hand.

‘Put your head back down – no, not like that – on one side,’ Chuck called softly. ‘Show the whiteness of your throat. Let it see the blood. If there’s one around, it’ll probably smell it.’

‘Shouldn’t I be a virgin?’ Alice called back, plaintively. ‘Don’t they go for virgins?’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers. They’d have died of hunger long ago if they only sucked the blood of virgins. Anyway, how can they tell from a distance? You just lie there looking like one.’

Alice lay there about an hour and a half staring up at the cage hidden amongst the leaves of the mango tree. She and Chuck had practiced the procedure for trapping the vampire. It was a dangerous operation, not only because they were dealing with a savage creature of the night, but also because if she were not quick enough she would be speared by the spikes on the bottom of the cage. Chuck had assured her he would not release the cage until she was well clear.

Now, however, her fears were more immediate. She was beginning to worry about creepy-crawlies in the grass.  She had already slapped at a few ants and there were spiders around the trees. Arachnid eyes glow in the dark and she could see a number of them.  If one of them came towards her she knew she would have to get up and run shrieking her head off.  Furthermore she was not sufficiently up on her Caribbean fauna to know whether there were any dangerous snakes on the island. In fact it would not have to be dangerous if it slid over her flesh. She would scream the neighbourhood down.

Nothing came that night.

Nor the next.

Or the next.

Three a.m. on Sunday, just when she was beginning to think about going to bed, something swift and neat descended out of the night sky. It was as if a piece of darkness about the size of a black swan had detached itself from the mass and whirled into a shape. There was a leathery sound and the stink of damp earth. The shape buffeted her and flapped on her breasts and abdomen. She had time to see large crackling wings, like those on a flying fox, and a fearsomely-intense face with bright intelligent eyes shining in the sockets. 

It was a handsome face, young and vivacious. The mouth was open as wide as an anaconda’s about to eat a pig, revealing white teeth with two long snake-like fangs.  She screamed high and loud, whipping her head away as the teeth bore down on her throat. As Chuck had taught her, Alice kicked out savagely and swiftly rolled away.

The cage came hurtling down, six long sprung-barbed spikes around its bottom which would flare once in the ground securing the cage to the earth.

It struck the earth, the spikes burying themselves deep in the clay, the barbs springing open like metal flowers blossoming. Inside the bars the small creature realized it had been trapped. It went into an insane rage immediately, like some hemmed wildcat. First it tore at the bars in a blur of fury. Then it began ripping at itself, trying to rip itself to pieces.

Alice was on all fours, staring at the creature open-mouthed. She was astonished at its terrible frenzy, as it threw itself this way and that, clawing at its own face, smashing itself against the bars, howling and shrieking and scoring the metal bars with its teeth.  It was a whirlwind of savage darkness, its movements so quick and vicious they were hardly visible to the naked eye. It seemed intent on self-destruction.

‘It’s just a child,’ she said. ‘Oh, Chuck, let it out.’

Then Chuck came running out of the shadows with his uncle’s gun. Chuck went right up to the bars, grinning all the while, and fired at the vampire. Uncle’s rifle was loaded with a stun dart, such as a zoo keeper might use on a wild animal. The dart hit the creature in its right eye. The child-vampire continued to thrash around for a while, then finally, exhausted, it began to slow in its movements..

‘What did you put in the dart?’ asked Alice.

‘Holy water. Took it from the church.’

The vampire was wailing and staggering from one side of the cage to the other, feebly striking the bars with its little fist.

Perspiration trickled down from Alice’s forehead and her face began to sting. She reached up and felt the place. After a minute or two she ran to the house and stared at her features in the hall mirror.

There some fine scratches visible. She stared at them, horrified, desperately praying there had been brambles where she had lain. Yet she knew there were none. Finally, she ran out to where Chuck was dragging the monster by its heels to the concrete boat house. She knew he intended to imprison the unholy beast in there, so that he could starve it of human blood. Chuck still insisted this was a valid experiment, to discover knowledge which no one had ever recorded. It could not be cruel, since the vampire was as supernatural creature: neither an animal nor a human being.  It had no rights, legal or moral. It preyed on mortals, sucked their blood and turned them into monsters and therefore was a disgusting non-entity, entitled to no consideration whatsoever.

‘Chuck’ she cried. ‘It bit me!’

Chuck dropped the heels of the creature, which looked surprising light now it was still. He studied her features intently.

‘That’s just a few nicks and scratches,’ he said inspecting her cheeks. ‘Probably from its claws.’

‘Will that – do anything to me?’

‘Nah – you’ll be fine.’

He went back to his task and Alice returned to the house. She was standing in the kitchen when Chuck came back. In his right hand was a pair of pliers. In his left was a bloody handkerchief. He held it under her nose for inspection. At first she did not recognize what nestled in the piece of cloth. Then she saw that it contained two ivory fangs, still with flesh hanging to the roots. Alice recoiled, revolted by the sight.

‘I pulled its teeth,’ grinned Chuck. ‘Can’t do any more damage now.’

‘That’s horrible,’ murmured Alice, feeling sick. ‘What did you do that for?’

Chuck shrugged. ‘I’ve made him safe. He’s a tame vampire now. It’s what those Indian snake charmers do. Pull the teeth of their cobras. Same thing.  I thought about blinding it, burning out its eyes, but drawing the fangs was a better idea.  It’s harmless.’

Alice shuddered. ‘If it’s so harmless, why not let it go?’

Chuck looked at her as if she were mad. ‘And what about my experiment?’

She did not reply.

~

Two weeks later the child-vampire was in a terrible state. It seemed to be wasting away, drying to a husk. It pleaded to be released.  It cried out for succour. It begged for a drink in its child-voice.

‘Yeah, we know what
that
means, don’t we?’ laughed Chuck.  ‘Well, friend, we haven’t got any succulent virgins’ blood for you, so you’ll just have to howl at the moon, won’t you.’

It was a horrible, slow withering of limbs and torso. Chuck seemed disappointed. He told Alice he had been expecting something a little more dramatic. The creature in the boathouse, which they observed through a porthole in the door, had at first been like a black shiny beetle, crisp and gleaming with oily colours. It had been totally dark except for its face and hands, which in contrast were a deathly white: a blanched body inside a dark carapace. As it began to die – or rather undie – it sunk in on itself. It became dull and listless, its movements lethargic.

Anyone, Alice thought, could see that it was fading away from despair. It was not just that it was being kept from its food – though that was probably the major reason for its distress – but the fact that it was imprisoned was also terrible to it. It wandered between the four walls constantly, never resting, like a panther in a zoo cage, as if hoping its horizons might expand any moment.

To Alice’s horror, Chuck took a pair of garden shears one day and snipped off one of the vampire’s fingers like a fresh carrot. He studied the severed end as if he were a tree surgeon looking at the rings of a freshly-cut tree trunk.

‘Same sort of circulation as we’ve got,’ he said, ‘going by this – ’spect the blood’s all dried up now.’

There came the day when it was just lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. It had a rattle in its throat. Chuck opened the door to the boathouse and cautiously went inside. Alice followed, a little warily. They looked at the monster and it looked back up at them. Its eyes held no hate or malice, nor any threat of menace. It simply stared, with a blank expression on its face. In that moment Alice felt terribly sorry for the creature. Yes, it was a monster which had not considered its victims either, but there was a form there, which could feel. Perhaps it did not feel emotions, in the way humans did, but it did feel pain. And it knew it was becoming nothing, being destroyed for ever and aye.  She expected it to crumble to dust.

‘I wonder where we’ll bury the remains,’ Chuck said, seriously. ‘I mean, we’d probably better put them in a churchyard – you know, consecrated ground – that way he’ll be trapped for eternity in a holy dungeon. That’ll stop the bastard getting out and wandering around again – just in case this isn’t a permanent condition . . .’