Nancy A Collins - 2010 - Population - 666 Page 2

  Skinner blinked. “Beg pardon?”

  “Your sleep last night: was it troubled?”

  “As a matter of fact it was.”

  “The wolf in your blood recognizes the presence of an enemy,” she said, nodding approvingly.

  “Enemy? What kind of enemy?”

  “The oldest,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “The one our kind has battled for millennia. I caught its scent last night. I have been working rituals ever since, trying to determine the exact nature of the beast. It is old, that much I am sure of—and hungry.”

  “Mother, I still don’t understand...what are you talking about?”

  “There is a vampire nosing about the perimeter.”

  Skinner’s heart went cold as the word slipped from his mother-in-law’s lips. “Are you certain?”

  “As sure as death,” she replied. “Call a council meeting for this afternoon.”

  “That settles it! You’re coming back into town with me right now!”

  “Don’t be silly, boy!” Changing Woman said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have things to do before the meeting. Give my daughter my love.”

  “You can tell Bonnie that yourself; she’ll be at the meeting, too.”

  “Ah! Perhaps I am getting long in the tooth, after all, eh?” Changing Woman said with a sly smile, then dropped onto all fours and loped off in the direction of the sweat lodge.

  ***

  The Limbo Town Council held its meetings in the back of the general store. Each of the various species that lived within the community elected members to represent their unique needs and concerns. Changing Woman and Bonnie represented the were-coyotes, Roy Skinner and Uncle Johnny represented the werewolves, while Sis and Powaqa Ramirez, the town’s schoolteacher, represented the humans and witches, respectively. Tully, the Council’s unofficial Sergeant-At-Arms and sole ogre, sat on a chair near the door, alternately scratching himself and staring at his feet.

  At ten years of age, Tully stood six-foot-six and weighed three hundred pounds, with a wide forehead that sloped backward, like that of a bull gorilla. A pair of tusk-buds jutted from his lower jaw. He had long, curved talons, like those of a wolverine, in place of toenails, which made wearing shoes difficult, and dressed in nothing but overalls.

  Uncle Johnny opened the meeting by speaking aloud what the others were thinking. “Why was the Council summoned, Sheriff?”

  Skinner glanced at his mother-in-law. “I think its best you address that question to Changing Woman.”

  All eyes followed the shaman as she got to her feet. She was dressed in a cape stitched together from rabbit pelts, a fetish necklace of turquoise and jasper hanging about her neck.

  “Last night I caught scent of a thing I hoped would never cross my path again. There is a vampire nearby.”

  Powaqa’s eyes widened in alarm and the others began talking rapidly amongst themselves. Uncle Johnny got to his feet, waving his hands for silence.

  “Quiet! Quiet, now! We can’t let emotion get the better of us!” He turned to face the shaman. “Are you sure about that, Changing Woman?”

  “There is no mistaking their scent.”

  “I’ll grant you that,” Uncle Johnny said with a nod. “They might be able to fool the eye, but the nose is another matter.”

  “What’s it doing out here?” Bonnie asked.

  “Maybe it’s come to seek sanctuary.” Sis suggested. “Maybe it wants to join us.”

  “Wants to destroy us is more likely!” Changing Woman spat in disgust.

  “You don’t know that!” Sis retorted.

  Changing Woman’s eyes narrowed. “Do not tell me what I do or do not know, little one!” she growled. “But I will tell you this: vampires are not like weres or ogres. While we may not be human, we are at least alive. We exist within the mortal cycle of birth and age and death. Our span of years is long, but it not without end.

  “Vampires, however, are born of death. They are demons riding around in the flesh of dead men. Theirs is an approximation of life, not life itself. And their appetite is not merely for the blood of the living, but the negative energy that arises from misery and suffering. Of all the supernatural races, they are the most devious. For countless centuries they and werewolves have been blood enemies.”

  “But you are a were-coyote, not a werewolf,” Sis pointed out. “What quarrel have you with them?”

  “While I may find many things wrong with werewolf society, I cannot find fault with their hatred of vampires. And, unlike most of you, I have seen a vampire! I know what they are capable of. There is too much sun and open space for their liking in this part of the world. But that is changing, with the growth of places like Phoenix, Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Wherever there are human cities, you will always find three things: rats, pigeons and vampires.”

  “Now, Changing Woman. I wouldn’t say all vampires bad news,” Uncle Johnny said. “True, they do have a reputation for evil that’s unique even amongst the shadow races. But they ain’t all bad. One of the best friends I ever had was a vampire! We rode together for a while, back in the old days. He was looking to start things anew in this country, just as we are. He met his final death tryin’ to save my life. For all we know this vampire is like the one I was partners with. We shouldn’t be quick to assume the worst. Besides, there is not one of us here—Miz Sis and Miz Powaqa excepted—who ain’t tasted human flesh.”

  “What about me, Uncle Johnny?” Tully asked, raising his hand as if he was in class. “I ain’t et nobody yet!”

  “I’m sorry, Tully,” Uncle Johnny said, smiling indulgently at the young ogre. “I didn’t mean to leave you out.”

  Tully smiled broadly, pleased with being acknowledged by one of the elders.

  “You can put your hand down, now, Tully,” Powaqa said gently.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tully replied, lowering his arm.

  “Uncle Johnny is right,” Sis said. “Everything you said about vampires can also be said about ogres. But Tully isn’t like that at all.”

  “Both Uncle Johnny and Sis have a point, Mother,” Bonnie said evenly. “Maybe you’re jumping the gun. We don’t know what this vampire wants. Maybe it’s just passing through. Maybe it’s looking for a place to start over, just like everyone else here. It’s not fair for us to judge him before hand.”

  “This is utter foolishness!” Changing Woman snapped, getting to her feet, her eyes flashing with anger. “Vampires are diametrically opposed to everything we’re trying to do here! They have no interest in humans and supernatural living together in open accord! Werewolf society’s attempts at infiltrating human political and religious organizations are child’s play compared to what they have done over the millennia! They thrive on secrecy and manipulation! We have to bring the humans in from the perimeters and keep them under lock and key until we can hunt down and eradicate this danger!”

  “You want to do what?” Powaqa said in stunned disbelief. “You talk about us as if we were sheep!”

  “And that’s exactly how vampires see your kind,” Changing Woman retorted. “You’re no more than livestock in their eyes.”

  “It sounds like they’re not the only ones who see us that way!” the schoolteacher retorted.

  “Powaqa’s right,” Skinner agreed. “The humans aren’t going to take kindly to being rounded up, even if it is supposedly for their own good.”

  “Why just us?” asked Sis. “Why not bring in everyone, if this thing is so dangerous?”

  “This is madness!” Changing Woman snarled. “We sit here chewing the fat when we should be out securing the town and trying to hunt down this monster!”

  Bonnie turned to address the elder Coyotero. “Mother, you, more than anyone else, know that Limbo was created as a safe haven for supernaturals weary of the predator lifestyle. Is it so hard for you to imagine a vampire who has decided to exist in harmony with the living?”

  “For all your experience, you are being naive in this matter, child,” Changing Wom
an told her daughter. “Vampires exist to feed on the living and perpetuate their kind. Everything they do is designed to either put them in the proximity of their next meal or insure their continuance. Any other emotion or desire they might display is merely a pretense, designed to help them pass for human.” The shaman got to her feet, glaring at the others seated about the table. “If you are not willing to bring the humans into town for protection, then at least warn them about what is out there.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Uncle Johnny asked. “It could make people jumpier than they already are. The last thing we need is panicky ranchers blowing the heads off everything that moves.”

  “This is a question that can only be answered by the humans on the Council,” Bonnie said “Sis? Powaqa? What do you think should be done?”

  The women exchanged uneasy glances.

  “The idea of a vampire being on the loose is... disturbing,” the schoolteacher admitted. “But Uncle Johnny is right—we have to be careful with this information. I mean, we don’t really know if there really is a vampire out there, do we? I mean, no one has seen or heard it. And even if there is one out there, we don’t know what it’s intentions are.”

  “Yes,” Sis said, nodding her head in agreement. “Until we know more about what this thing wants from us, we should keep quiet for the time being.”

  Changing Woman shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “It is impossible for a vampire not to bring death and devastation wherever they go! They are harbingers of pain and suffering. Once this thing establishes a foothold, you will see how interested it is in observing Limbo’s ideals of inclusion and openness! The war between weres and vampires for control of the human race is about to be fought once again. Here. In Limbo. I will not lend my blessings to such madness.”

  Changing Woman stalked to the door of the general store, turning to fix the Council with one final, withering stare. “Fools! You are endangering not only yourselves, but your children as well! That is the problem with the young ones today: too much thinking, not enough instinct.”

  ***

  Silas Samuels’ idea of a good day, as opposed to a bad day, was extremely basic. A good day was when he found something that could be converted into supplies and feed for Sookie. A bad day was where he hurt himself, like when he fell through the floor of the outhouse. Using that as his yardstick, today had been a very good day, indeed.

  He had been tempted to say something to Sheriff Skinner when he came by earlier, but managed to hold his tongue. He didn’t want to jinx his good luck by talking about it too early. Besides, he could very well be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

  Silas couldn’t really remember the time before he lived in Limbo. Some of that had to do with the relentless New Mexico sun parboiling his brain for a decade or two, but a good deal of it was because the life he had known before was a hollow one. Oh, it had been full of material possessions, deadline pressures and expectations from everyone from his parents to his school to his job, but at its core he found it an empty, unfulfilling existence; which made it fairly easy to throw away that part of his life without looking back.

  Living rough in the high country was hard, but it was a hell of a lot better than being a corporate wage-slave. In the brave, new world Silas had chosen for himself, success wasn’t measured in promotions or salaries, but in keeping his belly full and his bedroll dry. When all was said and done, it really didn’t bother him that he was surrounded by monsters.

  Although Silas didn’t have much use for people, he did like the newcomers who had moved into the old ghost town. Maybe that was because most of them weren’t really people. The newcomers pretty much minded their own business and allowed him to do whatever he pleased. Every so often he would catch sight of one of them in their fur skins, running down rabbits or antelope, but he wasn’t any more scared of them than any man should be of his neighbors. After all, they had an understanding: he wouldn’t go shooting at them, and they wouldn’t prey on Sookie.

  One of the biggest benefits of the newcomers’ arrival was that Silas no longer had to worry about mountain lions any more, despite all the sheep and cattle in the area. All the big cats cleared off the minute they caught wind of what had taken up residence in Limbo. Now he could leave Sookie stabled in the mine all night with a bale of hay and not have to worry about her being attacked.

  Since he lived without electricity, the rising and the setting of the sun proscribed all of Silas’s activities. As the light began to fade, he had a humble meal of black beans, flour tortillas and jerked beef, washed down with cold coffee. After making sure Sookie had plenty of feed and water for the evening, he retired to the cabin to enjoy a shot of whiskey and a pipe of tobacco before turning in for the night.

  As he was finishing his pipe, a horrible sound shattered the quiet. He instantly recognized it as coming from Sookie, although he had never heard the burro in such distress before. He grabbed the Coleman lantern from the table and his double-barreled shotgun from behind the front door and hurried toward the mine.

  “I’m comin’, girl!” he shouted, holding the lantern aloft.

  The burro was lying on her side just outside the mine. She had run as far as her tether would allow. She wasn’t breathing and there was foam smeared about her muzzle.

  “Sookie!”

  Silas’s knees gave out at the sight of his beloved burro stretched, cold and unmoving, on the hard ground. He dropped beside the felled beast, heart-stricken.

  “What happened, girl?” he moaned as he stroked her stiff mane. As he touched the burro’s throat, he felt something warm and wet. He pulled his hand away and stared at the blood smearing his fingers and palm. He lifted the lantern and saw twin puncture wounds.

  There was the sound of a footstep on a loose rock inside the mine. Silas raised his shotgun in the direction of the noise.

  “Who’s goes? I know somebody’s there!” he shouted. “You either answer me or I’ll open fire!”

  There was movement from deep within the shadows, and a pale figure emerged from the darkness. He was tall and thin, dressed in expensive dark clothes smeared with blood and dirt. Silas noticed that the stranger’s hands had very long, narrow fingers that ended in hooked nails. Although the stranger’s face was as pale as milk, his mouth was red as crushed berries.

  “Who are you, mister? Speak up, before I blow you full of holes!”

  The stranger smiled as if something the prospector said was amusing.

  ***

  “Where you headed, Skin?” Uncle Johnny asked as he gassed up the sheriff’s Wrangler.

  “I’m going back out on perimeter check. Until we know what that vampire’s intentions are, I’ll rest easier knowing I’ve kept tabs on everybody.”

  “Not a bad idea,” the older man said, nodding his head.

  Roy retrieved an Army Surplus issue walkie-talkie from the back of the Jeep and tossed it to Uncle Johnny. “I want you keep this on you for the time being. I gave one to Sis, too. In case something goes down out there, I want to be able to bring in back-up as fast as possible.”

  “I read you loud and clear, my boy,” Uncle Johnny said with a crooked smile. “Just give a shout and I’ll come a’runnin’ like a dawg to the hunt.”

  ***

  Skinner scratched his head as he looked around the abandoned mining camp. Silas wasn’t in his cabin and Sookie was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they had gone into the hills to look for turquoise. Or, more likely, the prospector had taken the burro with him into the mine.

  He walked over to the entrance, sniffing cautiously. He could smell the distinct reek of burro dung and piss, but there was another odor underneath it. While he could not identify the scent, there was no mistaking it belonged to a predator. Roy’s hackles came up instinctively.

  “Skin! Skin, do you read me? Over!”

  Skinner blinked, distracted by the squawk of the walkie-talkie. “I read you loud and clear, Uncle Johnny. What’s wrong? Over.�
�

  “Neal McClain’s boy just rode into town, fit to bust. Says his pappy needs you out at the farm. Says there’s something hidin’ in his barn. Over.”

  “I’m on my way! Johnny, I need you to get hold of Tully and bring him to the McClain place. Do you copy? Over.”

  “Roger, I copy.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you at Neal’s. Over and out.” Skinner returned the walkie-talkie to its canvas sling. He eyed the yawning mouth of the mine for long moment, then turned and headed back to the Jeep.

  ***

  Neal McClain emerged from the wooden geodesic dome that served as his home as Skinner’s jeep pulled up in the dooryard. He held a rifle close to his chest, like a soldier on parade.

  “Thank God you’re here, Sheriff!”

  “What’s this about there being an intruder on your property, Neal?”

  “My boy Jimmy went out to milk the cow, as usual,” McClain said, pointing at the barn that stood a hundred yards from the house. “He comes runnin’ back, fit to be tied, sayin’ he heard someone movin’ round in the hayloft. So I went to check it out, and I’ll be damned if the first thing I see when I climb up into the loft ain’t a pair of , get this now, white boots sticking out from behind a bale of hay! That’s when I sent Jimmy to fetch you, Sheriff.”

  “I see,” Skinner said. He removed his gun from its holster, flipping the chamber open for a quick spot-check. “You been to the barn since then?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Good,” he said, re-holstering his gun. “I’m gonna go have a look-see. I want you to wait here for Uncle Johnny and the others.”

  “Will do, Sheriff!” McClain called after him.

  The barn was dark and smelled of fresh hay, old straw and cow shit. Yet there was another, stranger scent mixed in with the manure and cattle-feed, one that was unfamiliar to him. But whatever it was, it definitely smelled dangerous.

  He paused as his head cleared the edge of the loft. There were several bales of hay stacked to on the right, from behind which poked a pair of white polythene boots, toes pointed towards the ceiling. Skinner quietly maneuvered himself so he could get a clearer view of what was wearing such unusual footwear.