A Little Less Sixteen Candles... Continued

The Aftermath

Pete watched in silence as the huge ornamental gates swung open slowly. His breathing quickened as he realised that this was his only chance to escape. With its lights flashing and sirens blaring, the patrol car had run every red light on the way to the mansion and only now did it stop as they waited for the hydraulics to pull the gates sufficiently wide enough apart for the car to drive through. Unable to run or fight, barely able to walk in the restricting shackles around his wrists and ankles Pete knew his chances of escape were slim, but they were zero if he didn't even try.

Raising up his legs, with a grunt of effort, Pete kicked the back of the left hand side seat with all his strength. Briefly watching with a satisfied smirk as the seat dislodged from its housing and both seat and driver were forced forward at speed. A sickening crunch filled the interior of the car as the vampire's chest was crushed against the steering wheel. Blood poured from his mouth and wounds as he slumped forward. Not waiting for a reaction from the second police officer, Pete crashed through the rear window, tearing his bare arms on the broken glass strewn trunk as he rolled off. Already, he had heard the second vampire cursing and opening the passenger door. His hands and feet chained together, Pete's brow furrowed deeply as he realised that he couldn't even stand fully upright. Pulling desperately on the thick and sturdy chains in an unsuccessful attempt to break them, he was forced to accept that his escape attempt was fruitless. At his side in a matter of seconds, the vampire police officer laughed to see the distress and helpless frustration on Pete's face.

Twisting his features into a cruel sneer, he pushed a hand held taser into Pete's side. Within moments, the young vampire lay unconscious at his feet.

"You better send someone to the gates," he snarled into his radio. "There's been an incident."

*

His eyes fluttered open and the young man tried to stretch out his aching limbs only to find that impossible. Joe tried hard to focus his eyes and his mind, at first without much success, but within a few minutes he realised his predicament. Bound hand and foot, he found himself lying on a comfortable couch in a darkened but homely furnished room. Across from him, roughly ten feet away, a slender, pretty young woman with long dark hair, wearing a pale skirt and checked shirt watched him intently. In her hand she held a wooden stake.

"Who are you?" she asked, her expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "What are you?"
"W...what am I?" Joe stammered, all the while trying surreptitiously to free himself from the strips of cloth that bound his hands behind him.
"I've seen those... things," she replied with distaste. "I've seen them up close. I've... I know they're not human."

Joe pursed his lips and nodded slowly. He had to admire her. She showed such great courage and only occasionally giving away her true feelings of fear and doubt. He wanted to answer her questions, but he had so many of his own – not the least of which were, why was he tied up in her house and where were the others?

"Vampires," he finally explained solemnly. "They're vampires."

Part of him expected her to laugh at such a ridiculous idea, but the stake in her hands suggested that, deep down, she already knew.

"And you?" she prompted.
"I'm..." he wondered if she would believe this as readily. "I'm a hunter."

Raising her hand to her mouth, she considered the question carefully.

"You hunt them?"

Joe merely nodded in reply; there didn't seem much else necessary. Besides, he had no idea how she was processing all this information. Perhaps she'd need longer and fewer complications. The less he said, the better.

"How?" she asked, frowning as she tried to take it all in. "What do you do?"
"We have specialist equipment," Joe explained vaguely. "If we can, we kill them."
"What kills them?"
"You're accepting this remarkably well!"
"What kills them!" she repeated, louder this time.
"Everything you've heard of," Joe shot back. "Sunlight, decapitation, stake through the heart..."
"Garlic? Crosses? Holy water?" she prompted.
"No... well... it's complicated."
"What specialist equipment? And you said 'we'. Who's we?"