BloodWise

BloodWise, Chapter 13

Winston was only ten minutes out of Ellicott City when the red Cadillac sideswiped him. Under normal circumstances, he would have seen the attack coming. But his mind was still swimming in pain and exhaustion, and he'd been preoccupied with finding a place to hide out before the sunrise. So, he didn't see the bog car overtake him until it was too late. The Cadillac hit the Oldsmobile hard, and the Oldsmobile caromed across the road and hit the guard rail.

Winston hit the accelerator, but the Cadillac pulled ahead and then Winston was forced to hit the brakes. Winston reached for his pistol, but by this point it was strictly a symbolic act, he wasn't in shape to defend himself from a normal human, much less any vampire.

Winston's car came to a whining halt. And the Caddie stopped about fifteen yards ahead. The driver's side door opened and Maxwell Benamy stepped out. with a large bore  hunting rifle. "Don't make me use it, Winston!" he called out.

Winston chuckled to himself. That was Max's gift, he always had the right weapon at hand. He could easily shoot and kill Winston through the front wind shield at this distance. On the other hand, if Winston started shooting, he would need several shots and lots of luck to nail Max. Winston threw the pistol down. He got out of the car and limped lamely toward Max.

Max took a moment to survey him under the bright highway lights. "What happened to you man?"

"All sorts of things, Max."

"Well, I hope this state, you won't force me to kill you."

"No. You can tell Catman that he's won. I have no fight left."

Max's smile carried some small element of relief. "Well that's good, Winston, because I always liked you. And- anyway- it would be nice to have you back in the posse. Back to Kingston town."

Flashes of sense memory came back to Winston. The smell of goats and unshowered men. The smell of fishing boats in the harbor. Yowling cats and the growl of cheap boomboxes in the warm, humid night.  Compared to Jamaica, America was an antiseptic nation. In Jamaica, Winston could smell life and death, hope and despair in the air. There was an appeal to that. Besides, unless he found some fulcrum that could push Max, he didn't have a choice. "We have to get out of here before the sun rises."

"No problem, Winston, I have a solar-proofed plane ready."

"Well, that seems like you, Max."

"He is ours," the voice was a whisper above the ambiance of the distant cars and the night wind. Winston and Max turned to spot three shadowy figures approaching from the fields beside the road. Winston could make out the form of the huge woman, Essie. "The Prestons," he whispered to Max. At least one was carrying a firearm. Winston suddenly wished that he hadn't abandoned his pistol in the Oldsmobile.

Max stared at them for a moment and then shrugged. "Give me a moment, Winston," he said. "And you might want to drop to the ground."

Winston knew how Max worked and he threw himself down immediately. As he did, there was an explosion and buckshot pelted the air above him.  Some of the shot caught Max on the back as he opened the Cadillac's trunk, but he didn't notice much.

When the shotgun opened up again, Winston spun around and dropped to one knee. He opened fire with a flare gun. The round must have been modified because it created a small, bluish conflagration about halfway between them and the advancing Prestons. It illuminated Essie and Mel Preston who was armed with a shotgun. Winston didn't see the third one.

Behind him, Max fired up into the air. There was a burst of light and heat from about ten feet above them and then a hair-raising scream as the web-faced lady fell the the ground. Her clothes, skin and hair were on fire, and she rolled around on the side of the road, clawing and her flesh and howling.

Max ignored her and advanced on the other two. He dropped  the flare gun and swung around the hunting rifle.

Essie ran toward Max. As she sprinted, she pulled out two, small scythe-shaped blades from the belt of her gown. If she was expecting an honorable duel, Max had no interest in providing one. Instead, he squeezed off a half-dozen rounds in quick succession, putting a series of holes into Essie's head and chest. She toppled to the ground and her body began to quickly dissolve into some kind of white, pasty powder, one of the myriad types of deaths that Winston had seen in vampires.

Behind her, the Oldsmobile's engine roared to life. Mel Preston had made his way into the car. He hit the accelerator now and drove the Oldmobile directly at Max. Max backed up a few steps. "Better move, Winston!" he hollered.

Winston crawled on all fours around the side of the Cadillac. Then he glanced back in time to see Max leaping onto the Oldsmobile's hood. He could just make out Mel in the driver's seat with a shotgun in hand. Mel discharged the shotgun, but all he managed to do was to shatter the windshield and allow Max a way into the cab. Max balanced himself on the advancing vehicle's hood with one hand and used the other to strike at Mel's skull through the broken windshield. The blow was a brutal one and Winston could hear it land above the growl of the Oldsmobile's engine.

Winton realized that- regardless of the outcome of the fight- the Oldsmobile was going to hit the back of the Caddie. He let out a small yelp and rolled across the ground to his right, away from the Cadillac.

The Oldsmobile hit the Cadillac with a metallic grind that was followed almost immediately with another shotgun blast and then a succession of shots from a smaller-caliber weapon, some kind of handgun. By the time Winston regained his feet, he saw Mel's shattered skull in the Oldsmobile and Max standing calmly above him.

Max reached in though the window and shook Mel's body. "I think this one is done for," eh said casually. Then they both looked around. Essie was completing her quick decompisition. The web faced woman was nowhere to be seen, although her burned clothes lay on the side of the road.

Max hauled Winston to his feet, and pulled him to the dented Caddie. "We'd better leave before someone passes on the road."

Winston allowed himself to be tucked into the passenger seat. "One of them got away."

"Not my problem, Winston. My job is to get you to the airport."

"Do you even want to know who those people were?"

"Not really, but you can tell me if you're bored." Max hit the accelerator and they went West.

"They belong to the House of Preston," Winston said, and he started to tell Max the story of the Prestons, but the whole time that he was talking, he was studying Max, trying to discover the fulcrum, maybe even change the big man's mind.