The Scottsville Vampire Invasion

Chapter 2

Driving into the neighborhood, I make my first right and then pull into the driveway of a shoebox brick dwelling that was built in the fifties. The house is dark, not even an illumination on the front door. I turn off the car and sit for a few seconds, take a deep breath and say to myself, "I hate this job." I get out and start walking toward the house. In the distance, I hear a chain fence rattle and a dog bark.  

Walking up to the house, I turn my flashlight back on to find a path through the mounds of dead plants on the lawn. At the small stairway at the door, I grab onto the railing and pull myself up over the half broken and uneven stairs. This place has gone to hell since Mr. Hunter died six years ago of a heart attack. He was known around town as "Fat Sam." Unfortunately, that was not an ironic nickname. At the bowling alley on the sixth frame of a perfect game he rolled a gutter ball, watched it go all the way to the end of the lane, fell down on his backside and then onto his back. The crowd watching laughed at his perfect comedy timing until he turned purple.  

After that his family went into the deep funk that only death can bring. His wife started gardening and filled every single inch of her lot with plants. It's like she was hoarding them in her yard. She'd put one down after another, never taking care of the earlier ones and letting them wilt. Pretty soon her entire lawn was consumed with dead plants. 

No matter how she ended up, Jenn was a special girl. She sang and performed in church and at school when she was younger. She had natural talent. The whole place would stop and focus on her and that's the way she wanted it. After her father died, she immediately acted out, got in fights, stole, used drugs, did poorly at school, eventually dropped out and ended up at the Corner doing nothing good. No matter what Jenn did, she was always forgiven. I remember one time she got in a fight at the roller rink. I walked into the manager's office to sort things out. It was some stupid dispute between two teenagers. I came in to intimidate them, but as soon as I entered Jenn saw me and smiled. That was it. I just brought her home and the whole ride we talked about her life and her friends. By the time I got her to her front door, I'd forgotten why I brought her there. I should have done more. I should have been tough on her. I should have gone to see her like her mother asked me to. Now I have to tell this widow her daughter's dead. There aren't enough plants in the world to cover that loss. 

At the doorway, I try to look into the window but can't see anything. With my billy club, I lightly tap on the paint-chipped green door. No response. I knock a little louder and wait with still no response. Feeling cold, I hit the door hard enough to wake somebody. In a few seconds, a light goes on in the window next to the door. I see a heavy-set, older woman lean into the window, look at me and then open the front door. 

She's half-awake, dressed in sweats and a tee shirt. Yawning she holds her hand to the side of her face and asks, "What is it now Clark?" 

"Can I come in?" 

She doesn't say anything but moves to the side and lets me walk past her. As soon as I take a step in, I smell the overwhelming stench of cats and old cigarettes. She turns the light on, and we both sit down on the couch.  

"Stephanie, I have some horrible news." 

"What did she do this time?" 

"It's not like that." 

"Okay, then what's it like?" she asks, sounding frustrated to be bothered at this hour. 

"Your daughter was,"' is,'" Jenn, we found her in a field." 

"What?" 

"Something has happened and she is no longer with us." 

"No longer with us? What does that mean?" Stephanie says as she raises her hands to her head.