Suburban Vampire: Book of Origins

JACK, Part One

ABILENE, TEXAS

1875

"Jonathan Isaac Turner!" The man with the short gray hair and mustache yelled up the stairs, "breakfast is on the table! Get out of your bed now, you lazy bones!" There was no response. "God damn it, boy, I've already rode half the herd over forty acres this morning, all while you were snoring away in your god damned bed! Now get up, boy!"

George Jacob Turner stormed up the stairs of his two-story ranch home and headed straight for his son's room. He did not stop to knock, but twisted the door knob and threw the door open. He was shocked to see his son in bed – with a naked young woman. "Why, pa!" The young man cried, "don't you ever knock?"

"What's this? You bring a whore into my house, under my roof!" The older man snarled.

"Why pa, she ain't no whore! Are you a whore, Bessie?"

"Uh, well," the naked woman stammered.

"Well, okay, pa, maybe she is a whore after all!"

The young woman slapped the young man across the face. "You watch your mouth! And where's my damn money!"

"I'll tell you where your damn money is," George Turner said, "it's outside! Get on some clothes and leave my house, and never return! Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," the lady said as she prepared to climb out of bed. George Turner turned his head so that the lady of the night could slip into her pantaloons. When the woman had dressed sufficiently, she headed to the door. "You owe me, Jack Turner!"

"I know," Jack said, "I'll pay you back this Friday at the Rosined Bow, okay?"

"That'll be the day!"

The woman then walked around the old man and headed down stairs. George turned his reddened face back toward his son. "I cannot believe this. Of all the low-down things you have done under my roof, this is among the worst. A whore? Under my roof? Oh, your mother, were she here, would be most disappointed! I pray that she is not looking down from heaven upon you now, boy! I would hate for her profligate son to cause her distress in the kingdom."

Jack grabbed his trousers and began dressing. "Yeah, well, truth is, mother ain't nowhere except six feet under the Texas sod, so I doubt she's disappointed much."

George gasped. "You take that back! Your mother lives forever in—"

"La dee dah, in the bosom of Abraham, yeah, all right. Hallelujah! Praise Jesus that my ma's the one who died and my father's the one who's stuck with me!"

As Jack rose from the bed, George stuck him across the face. "There'll be none of that talk in my presence, boy! Your mother coddled you, God rest her soul. She allowed you to continue in your sinful ways for too long. But she's been gone a year now and things will change. I will no longer treat you as a child. I must treat you as an adult. I shall not abide your abuse of the privileges of living in my house. That means there shall be no more drinking, no more cards, no more laying with prostitutes, and no more associating with other young men of low morals. Is that clear?"

Jack could scarcely hold back his contempt. "Yes, father," he spat. George Turner then left his son's room and headed back downstairs. Jack followed his father to the kitchen where he grabbed a biscuit and some bacon then headed out the door.

"Wait, Jack!" George said. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Well, I think I'm going to hell, if you've anything to say about it."