 
Funk's the Chocolate Loving Vamp

By Jamie Ott

Copyright   2011 Jamie Ott. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission.

Passionate Prose Industries

ISBN-13: 978-0615544908

ISBN-10: 0615544908

For all inquiries, please contact passionateprose@mail.com.

Special thanks to the real Layton Funk.
Sting of Betrayal
Chapter 1

Saturday at three 'o'clock his dad was supposed to pick him and his sister up so they could spend some time together. It was, now, four 'o' clock.

Layton lay on his belly in the grass as he rolled marbles over ants in his mother's flowerbed. They franticly scurried about with little specks of white on their backs. The little glass balls neither killed nor squashed the tough little bugs. He was vaguely amused by this, but quickly tired.

He rolled onto his back, looked up at the blue sky and sighed.

What a boring day.

His dad was supposed to take him and his sister out for pizza and miniature golf, but as usual, he canceled. Not that he was actually looking forward to spending time with Dad, but he was just so bored. He'd have done anything to get out of the house.

Now, his sister was off with her friends, his mom was at work, and he was home alone again.

School had been out nearly two weeks, and all he'd done is sit and simmer in the grueling summer heat. No fun days at the water park, backyard barbeques or crafts at camp, like he used to have. Since his parents split, finances were tighter, or so his mother explained.

She told him not to leave the house that day. Yet, there he was, lifting the silver latch of the old gate, and leaving the backyard.

He headed down to Priddy Street where his best friend, Rick, lived.

As he walked, feelings of anger, pride, and loneliness battled inside him. On one hand, he never wanted to talk to Rick again, but on the other, it sucked not having any friends that summer. It was shameful that he was willing to simply forget the way he treated him, but now that school was over, maybe Rick would be different. Maybe he'd be kinder.

Layton tried to forget that last week's incident at school. Rick's new friends threw handfuls of mashed potatoes at him as he walked past their table in the cafeteria. Rick laughed the loudest. And despite the humiliation of being picked on, it was his laugh that played itself over and over in his mind.

Things would be better if his parents would let him throw away his stupid glasses and put some gel in his frizzy blond hair. Maybe he wasn't as cute as Jeff Barley, the one who seemed to like making fun of him the most, but he had a girlfriend once.

Cindy was a cute little brunette who always wore pretty barrettes in her hair. She had the shiniest lips. All the boys at school wanted her, and she was his until Jeff shorted him in front of the entire school. Cindy was too embarrassed to be seen with Layton, so she never spoke to him again.

"Hey, Funk, show us your under pants!" he recalled.

It wasn't so bad, really, the kids knowing he wore underpants. After all, everybody wore them. He just wished he hadn't picked out the Superman tighties that day.

Fortunately, that stunt's resulting torment died down. Jeff, eventually, moved on to bigger, better insults as well as methods of torture: like ripping up his homework so he couldn't turn it in, or stabbing him in the buttocks with a pen.

Layton wasn't a total weakling though. He tried to stand up for himself once. Standing next to Rick, waiting in line for lunch was when Jeff decided it'd be funny to pour the contents of his plastic Kool Aid on his head. Angry, he turned and pushed him hard, but his buddies, fraternal twins, John and Brad Miller, caught him before he fell to the ground. They lifted Jeff back to his feet. Then he sent a nasty right hook at his face.

The teachers took them both to the principal's office, and then sent them home for the day.

His hair retained a reddish glow because he didn't rinse out the Kool Aid immediately, and the next day, everyone had something new to laugh at. But even worse than the humiliation was the hurt of being betrayed, because that was the day Rick turned on him.

He walked with his head down to avoid the hot glare of the sun. When he was about to cross the street, he looked up to make sure no cars were coming. Instead, what he saw, just up ahead, made him freeze.

Rick lived in a yellow house in the middle of the next block, and he already had company. There was Rick, Jeff, and the two twin brothers, John and Brad, all splashing and laughing as they took turns belly sliding on a water mat on Rick's front lawn. His dad stood over a charcoal grill turning meat.

Feeling hurt, Layton turned around and walked, fast, hoping they wouldn't see him.

Shame that he thought, even for a moment, that he and Rick could be friends for the summer made his flesh feel even hotter than the sun.

Yet, at the same instant he felt shame, pure rage made him want to hurt Rick. To make him feel pain the way he did at that moment. He would have liked to have punched him in the face a million times.

He walked back inside his plain white house on the corner. In his room, he threw himself on the bed and stared at his Harry Potter posters until he fell asleep.

~~~

"Layton! Dinner's here!" his sister, Heather, called from the living room.

Feeling even worse than when he laid down, he crawled out of bed, and dragged his feet across the carpet.

In the living room, a large pizza sat on the coffee table.

"We rented the Boy Who Cried Wolf," said his mother.

She walked over and ruffed up his curly fro. Looking down at him, she asked, "Is anything wrong? How was your last week of fourth grade?"

"We've been out nearly two weeks. Of course, you forgot, right? I mean, you haven't even asked to see my report card."

"That's because she doesn't care about you, geek-dweeby," said Heather.

"Shut up, hoe."

His mother's mouth dropped in a silent "O." She set the plates, in her arm, on the coffee table, leaned over and slapped him.

"Watch your mouth!" she said, pointing her finger in his face.

Layton was furious. He ran back to his room where he slammed the door, as hard as he could.

Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, he wondered to himself why everyone always treated him like crap? Worse, why wasn't he allowed to treat everyone like crap back? It wasn't fair. Kids bullied him at school, yet if he defended himself, he was always punished. It didn't make sense. Was there no one in the world who loved him? Would no one stand up for him?

Moments later, his mother knocked on the door and entered with a plate of pizza and a soda.

"I'm sorry," she said as she set the food on the nightstand next to his bed. "You know I hate that word. Don't say it anymore. I don't care what your sister says to rile you."

She leaned over and kissed and hugged him. "Now I want you to eat your dinner, and then I want you to brush your teeth and go to bed."

Layton tried to do as she said. Instead, he tossed and turned for an hour. He tried to clear his mind and relax, like the school nurse said, but he was too angry.

He sat up and turned on the television his mother put in his room.

Since he was a child, he was prone to fits of insomnia. The doctor said it was stress and prescribed pills, but his mother was against medication, except for when legitimately sick. So she put an old television in his room. It was an old thirteen inch that wasn't even compatible with digital signals. But it still got channels 3, 6, and 9. That was okay, though, because cartoons were on 3 in the mornings, and there were always movies on 9, albeit black and white.

Layton loved the old movies because they were certain to help him sleep. In fact, it was already working.

His eyes lids blinked more and more frequently.

In between heavy blinks, some ugly old face came into view. His eyes were large and angry looking. The dimple in his chin was huge. Seeing him made Layton's heart beat harder.

His lids slid down, only letting in a bit of light from the television.

He jumped when a man on the screen screamed.

A guy in a suit was being attacked by a ring of women in white, flowing nightgowns. Fortunately, the man with the terrible eyes flung his cape, and the women scattered, whining like cats.

Suddenly, one of the women in nightgowns was in a park, handing out chocolate bars to kids.

Layton's eyes closed again, but he didn't realize he was dreaming this time.

He reached out for a chocolate bar, but the woman dropped it to the ground, pulled him into her and bit him, deeply, on the neck.

Layton struggled to get away, but she was too strong.

When the woman released him, he turned into a powerful man that looked just like the one in the movie. He could fly, too!

Everyone feared him, including Rick.

They all called him Dracula.

~~~

Next morning was Sunday. Layton got up and groggily walked into the kitchen to get some cereal.

His mother stood over the counter, looking through her purse.

"Layton," she said. "I need you to go to the store today."

"Oh, mom! Why do I always have to go? Why can't you send Heather?"

"She's gone to her friend's house already. Besides, I don't want you in the house all day alone. You need to get some fresh air and a walk."

She opened her wallet.

"Here's twenty dollars. I want you to get cereal, ravioli and paper towels, and then you can get something sweet for yourself."

She was right. The rest of the day, he lounged lazily about the house. Nothing was on television. He couldn't have been more bored or depressed.

He put off walking to the store for as long as he could because the heat peaked that day. When it was nearly five 'o' clock, he finally set out.

Outside, he hopped from foot to foot and moaned, as the heat from the ground radiated through his shoes, painfully burning his feet.

The worse part about walking to the store was that he'd have to pass Rick's house, and he didn't want to be seen. So this time, he walked through an alley right behind Rick's house.

He veered right into a clearing and made another right that led him down the alley.

Layton saw a house ahead that had full bloomed rose bushes along a chain link fence. The flowers towered two feet above his head.

In the very next yard, there was a black lab with a long tongue that watched him approach.

Layton stopped for a moment to look at the house that belonged to the yard with the rose bushes. It was an old building with broken windows and a large hole in the door, and chunks missing from various parts of the walls. He jumped when, unexpectedly, he saw a woman with a feather in a baseball hat digging around in the dirt.

"Hello," said the woman, looking up and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Is that your house?"

"No, but it's been condemned, so I wouldn't go in there if I were you. I'm just using the yard to grow flowers."

"Why?"

"I need extra cash. Sometimes, kids come over and play in the house, though. I can tell they've been messing with my flowers. You wouldn't happen to be one of these kids?"

"No, I would never."

"Good."

She leant over and continued her digging.

The black lab in the next yard walked up, stood on its rear and put its legs on the fence. It whined for Layton to pet him.

"That's Mad Dog."

"Oh," he said. He took a moment, walked over and stroked his head. "Well, I'd better be going. Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

Layton continued along the alleyway. Rick's backyard was only two houses up from the rose bushes. From the backyard, he heard scraping noises, as if someone were raking leaves.

He almost walked past, but then he heard voices.

"Aww Mom! I don't want to invite him!"

Layton knew that voice. He didn't want to hear anymore, so he kept on.

Every year about that time, Layton would get an invitation to Rick's birthday party. He supposed he wouldn't be getting one that year.

A few minutes later, he was relieved to feel the air conditioned store where he got the ravioli, and what else was he supposed to get?

He walked over into the cereal aisle and looked at all the prices. His mother always complained that it was so expensive. "Five dollars for a little box," but Layton wanted his favorite: Count Chocula.

The box was brown with a wide eyed, long chinned vampire who, so delightedly, poured milk into a bowl of cereal. With the way he was feeling, he needed a "pick me up" as Dad always said. He pulled the box from the shelf knowing what his mother would say, later.

He wandered over to the candy section in which there were two kids laughing and playing with candy trucks. They were large gummies shaped like semis, and boxed in painted cardboard.

Immediately, he recognized the two boys from school. They were in the classroom next to his.

"Cool trucks," Layton said, trying to be friendly.

"Get away glass face," said the one with freckles.

"Yeah, you're ugly," said a dark haired boy.

Taken aback, Layton walked out of the store without paying for the items. What was it about him that made kids want to pick on him? His mother said he needed confidence, but why would people pick on someone for not having confidence?

And really, what was confidence anyway? How was he supposed to get it? Was not saying 'hello' a form of confidence?

Suddenly, the store's proprietor approached him, yelling at the top of his lungs. Layton apologized and gave him the $20, and then walked off.

"Waait," said the man.

Layton didn't want to wait. He wanted to get far, far away.

Walking back through the alleyway, he came across Mad Dog again. Layton stopped and petted him for a moment.

The woman from the rose bush closed the gate to the condemned house.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You look kind of down."

Layton didn't say anything as he continued to pet the dog.

"Why don't you come in for a moment and have a soda. Come on," she opened the gate right next to the yard with the rose bushes. It was her side of the property. "My name's Molly."

He followed her inside. She pulled off her ball cap and laid it on the living room table.

Molly had long curly medium brown hair and tan skin.

"Take a seat."

Layton did as she suggested. Mad Dog followed him to the couch, and laid his head in Layton's lap.

"My nephews are coming over in a bit. Their names are Billy and Bob. Bob's more your age, and Billy's a little bit older than you. My sister and I want to go shopping at the Planks Mall. They get really bored, but maybe you guys can hang out and watch some movies? Mind you, the neighbor might check in with you from time to time. He's a good friend of mine."

"Sure," said Layton. "I'd love to hang out. It's so boring at home alone."

"So I guess you and Rick aren't friends anymore?"

"How do you know about us?"

"I used to see you over there, playing, before they put up the fence."

Layton took a sip of cola.

"Oh, look. Chasing's on."

She sat down in the chair opposite the couch.

Layton remained still in his seat as they watched the police car chase a bank robber around a corner.

"Well, I guess I should go. My mom will be back from work soon. I'll ask her if I can come back and hang out."

"Yeah, okay. Just come on by, anytime, tonight. Apparently, they're at the rental store. I know they wanted to watch Fantasmo and Trixter. My nephews will be here, alone, most of the evening, but Billy's twelve and very responsible."

"Okay, thanks Molly."

Layton walked home in the cooling twilight. Up the driveway, his mother's car was already parked.

"Where have you been?"

"I went to the store, and then this woman named Molly invited me to hang out with her nephews and watch movies. Can I go?"

"I don't know who this Molly is. Until I meet her, you can't go over there."

"But she's real nice, and she thinks her nephew and I will get along. Why don't we go over there and you can meet her? I'm so bored and I'm sick of not having any friends. It's been two weeks and I've spent every day alone."

"I'm too tired. Wash up and make yourself some dinner."

She went and sat on the couch.

"Where's Heather? How come she gets to go out all the time?"

"I don't know where she's at, but she's older than you."

She flipped through television channels.

"So you trust her but not me? I'm way more responsible than she is."

"When you prove that to me, then we can talk."

Layton shut his mouth, went in his room and shut the door. He didn't want to argue further because he was very close to telling her what he really knew about Heather, which was she hadn't even been going over to Charlotte's, her best friend's, house to hang out at all. She'd been going to the bald spot where there was a river hidden by a line of trees. Her friends would sit on the bank and do things that they weren't supposed to.

He was always torn between wanting to get Heather into trouble and the relief he got from her being gone a lot. In the end, he decided her absence was far more valuable.

His mother opened the door.

"Can't you knock? You always tell me too!"

Ignoring him, she said, "I'm going to bed early because I'm working the early shift at the hospital. I want you to keep it quiet. By the way, you forgot to get paper towels, go to the store and get some tomorrow. "

"All right," said Layton, thinking about the change he'd left at the store.

"Good night."

Layton lay there and lay there, but again, he couldn't sleep.

Finally, he looked up at the clock which said 1 am. He turned on the television and it was Dracula again, only this time it wasn't that freaky looking guy with a butt chin, as Rick would have called it. This time it was some tall skinny guy with a cape.

After another hour passed with him still being wide awake, he climbed out of bed and put on some clothes. He gently raised the window next to his bed and crawled through. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, but he just wanted to get lost in the cool darkness. It was stupid and probably dangerous, but he loved looking at the stars, and his mother would never notice.

Except for the cool air whooshing through his hair and brushing in his ears, he heard nothing. The atmosphere was so dark blue that it was easy to fantasize that he'd escaped to another planet. For the first time, he walked with his head held up because the night had nothing that he feared. Not even the shadows that danced sinisterly in the alleys he passed could frighten him.

Eventually, he walked onto his school's playground, and into the plastic tunnels. On the very top, he was hidden by the plastic walls. It was his favorite place to sleep at night because no one would see him.

He lay on his back and looked at the moon.

~~~

The next morning, when he walked down the alley back to his house, he saw Molly sitting on her back porch, petting Mad Dog.

"Hey, why didn't you come by yesterday?"

"My mom said I couldn't because she was tired and she doesn't know you."

"Oh well, if you get bored, come by later. I have some yard work I'd love you to help me with. Later on, we can go and meet your mom. My nephews will be over again later."

"Okay, Bye."

When he got to the block on which his house stood, he saw his mother had already gone to work. He opened the door and felt that it was already reaching sauna degrees, as their house didn't have air conditioning.

In the kitchen, he poured a bowl of Count Chocola, and took it in the living room.

He turned on the television.

"Where's Mom?"

His sister, Heather, walked into the living room looking like she'd recently tumbled down a mountain. Her hair was mop-like, and the expression on her face was of such disgust that Layton couldn't stand looking at her. He wondered if she ever realized just how ugly she could be when she looked at people that way. "Work. Where were you last night? With your ugly boyfriend?"

"Shut up or I'll kick you in the face."

The Party
Chapter 2

Despite everything that happened between him and Rick, he still got an invitation his 10th birthday party. What if Jeff and the twins showed? This was going to be humiliating.

"Layton, you're going," his mother said as she filled her car mug with coffee.

"He hates me. He's friend with kids who hate me. Remember the guy I got into a fight with? He's gonna be there, too."

She breathed out, loudly, and said, "You can't go through life fearing bullies. Someone's always going to try to intimidate you."

The lid made a loud popping noise when she pressed it down onto her mug. Then she went to her purse and opened her wallet.

"Here." She handed him a $20 bill. "Get him a nice birthday present."

"Rick humiliated me. Why should I get him a present?"

"Because he was still nice enough to invite you."

That afternoon, when his sister emerged from her room and declared she had no place to go, he decided to visit with Molly. Anyone had to be better company than his yeti of sister.

Once again, there she was, digging in the yard next to hers; the condemned house staring eerily down at him.

"Can't you get into trouble for planting in someone's yard?"

"No one, personally, owns it; it was foreclosed on by the bank. Besides, the flowers will bloom and I'll harvest them in a few months' time. Why don't you grab that shovel over there, you can start on these."

She handed him a shovel and a packet of marigolds.

It was strange but Layton enjoyed working in the garden with Molly. Despite the heat that aggravated every pore in his body, and the sweat that slimed his skin and rolled into his eyes, it was nice to have actions that demanded so much of his focus that he couldn't think.

Layton picked up the water hose and drank and doused himself with the cold water. Across the way, the sounds of kids yelling, followed by the sight of a football flying across a yard, came from Rick's backyard. For the first, he didn't care: what a relief.

He stuck his shovel into the 50lb bag of soil, and sprinkled it into the row he'd dug.

About noon, the sounds of laughter and shouting boomed through the house. Into the backyard came Molly's sister Melinda and her two kids: Billy and Bob.

Billy was a tall dark half-Mexican with ashy legs and dirty scruffy clothes. He looked like one to play hard. His younger brother, Bob, was in the third grade and, although he had the same father as Billy, was light and golden like his mother. Bob was more laid back and liked to talk, and his clothes were less scruffy.

Molly's sister carried a bag of tacos and a couple liters of cola. After a round of introductions, they sat around the living room table, as the kitchen was too small, ate tacos and watched a movie.

"Mom, can Billy and I go to Golf 'n' Games after this?"

"No. We have to go get a present for Rick, the kid across the way. He's invited you to his birthday party."

"I was invited to the party, too," said Layton. "My mom told me to get him a gift."

"Well, you can come with us," said Bob.

After lunch, they piled into Melinda's SUV. Layton crammed in between Billy and Bob. They drove to the Planks Shopping Mall, where they spent the rest of the late afternoon looking at toys.

They wandered along an isle full of cars.

"Oh wow," Billy exclaimed at the H scale train set. "I want this. Mom!?!"

He walked off to find his mother.

"So how old are you?" asked Bob.

"Ten."

"Oh cool. I'm eight but I'll be nine in a few months. It sucks being the youngest. I have to do everything Billy tells me, like last night when he made me smear toothpaste on the seat of our neighbor's daughter's bike. He wouldn't tell me why, only that he'd put my feet behind my ears and sit on me if I didn't do it. But I know he's mad because the girl broke up with him, though. I threatened to tell Mom, but he said if I did, he'd put potato bugs in my cereal. He already put jumping spiders in my shoes so I figured I'd better do as he says."

"I have an older sister, but she's gone all the time, thankfully. I hate her so much."

"What should we get Rick? I don't even know him that well."

"How about a box of dirt? I'm not buying him anything. I don't care what my mom says."

"How come you hate him?"

"Because he's a jerk. Oh, whoa!" he exclaimed.

There, on the shelf, was an electronic sling shot. It had a miniature telescope and a trigger that pulled the plastic bands back into place. Next to it laid a cartridge of ball bullets, five times the size of a BB pellet.

Like holding a baby, Layton carefully picked the sling shot off the shelf and inserted a couple little pellets into the plastic tube that fed into the fold of the rubber flap. Breath abated, he squeezed the little trigger, which made a clicking noise, and then loaded a pellet. When the band was in position, he pressed the button again and WHAM!

Layton and Bob hit the floor, as the pellet made a loud CRACK noise.

The pellet ricocheted off a box on the shelf in front of them, bounced off a box on the shelf behind them, and then rolled across the floor.

"Who- hoa," said Bob. "Coooool, let me try."

Layton handed him the slingshot.

Bob, looking around, saw Billy standing at the end of the aisle. He pressed his eye up to the telescope and aimed the slingshot at Billy's head.

Two clicks of the little trigger, and Billy yelled, "OOOWWW!!!"

He turned, looking murderous, and charged Bob who took off around and into the next aisle.

Barely able to control his laughter so that he could breathe, Layton grabbed an unopened electronic sling shot package.

This will come in handy.

For the first time in weeks, Layton had a really good day. Molly invited him to stay for dinner, and he really wanted to, but he needed to get home and stash the slingshot, for if his mother found it, she'd never let him keep it. As it was, she'd be mad that he didn't get Rick a birthday present.

Layton opened the door to his home at a quarter to five. Heather was there, and her boyfriend was lying on top of her, giving her kisses.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked with disgust.

"Get out of here, Layton!"

"You'd better pray that I don't tell mom, who'll be home any minute!"

He walked into his room and slammed the door shut.

Layton opened his slingshot and practiced aiming at one of the paper targets that came with it.

Heather opened the door, and asked, "Where did you get that?"

"Get out, Heather!"

"Mike is gone. You'd better not tell Mom or I'll kill you!"

She slammed the door.

That night, his mother came home and yelled at Layton for not getting Rick a present. She especially flipped when he told her he spent the money at the ice cream shop. Apparently, they didn't have money to waste, and it didn't grow on trees, either.

No matter; it was totally worth it.

That night his father called to say hello and apologize for not meeting him and his sister. The only reason Layton went to the phone was to keep his mother from further yelling at him, but as usual, he held the receiver and didn't say a word.

"Layton? Layton?" his voice called out through the receiver.

But he just sat, there on the couch, in silence for fifteen minutes and watched television. He didn't need to say anything because his dad wasn't interested.

"Look, I'm sorry but I had to work."

Another lie. He was with his girlfriend and their new baby. He just didn't say so because he didn't want them to think he was choosing his new family over them. Or at least, that's what his mother accused him of one night.

When his father told him to hang up, he did so without saying goodbye. His mother called him but he ignored her and went to his room.

He pushed the old television switch into the on position.

What is this? Vampire week?

Only this time, it was a funny vampire. An old guy with white hair pranced about, looking goofy.

Layton's eyes gently closed. A moment later they opened. The doctor and some guy were standing about.

"Did you put a bug in your mouth?"

"It was a raspberry."

"We're not serving raspberries!"

"Then it must've been a raisin. See there's one missing from the muffin."

"Oh okay – wait! You did it again!"

"What?"

"You put a bug in your mouth!"

Layton giggled. This one wasn't so bad. He couldn't go to sleep after that scene.

Several hours passed – with god awful commercials, "Dead and Loving It" long over, Layton was now fully intrigued by the 1931 Dracula which was re running.

It was a dark film, and even scarier looking, as it was in black and white. Periodically, he put his head under the cover. And then a man and a woman he recognized from his dreams crossed the screen: Dracula in full dress, and the scary lady in white. After that, he didn't hide his eyes, even when it was tough, because he couldn't miss a single detail of these villains whom, to him, had become heroes.

The following week was more of the same thing: his mother would go to work, his sister would pretend to go to Charlotte's, and Layton would be left all alone in the house. Mom was kind enough, though, to put him in charge of all the shopping, considering that he had "nothing to do."

Today, the list was milk, eggs, and butter.

After putting off going to the store for as long as he could, he put on his shoes and took the money off the table.

When he reached Priddy Street, he took the alleyway down, hoping to see Molly and her nephews.

As he passed the flowers in the yard of the condemned house, he noticed the seeds he'd planted had already begun to grow. Little green sprouts were sticking out of the ground as though reaching for something.

Reaching over the fence, he put his cupped hands in the water of the sprinkler and poured it down his back. Next door, Molly's house appeared to be still, but Mad Dog, who was in the yard, ran up to him.

Layton scratched and stroked him.

Across the way and two houses up, he heard some commotion going on in the backyard. Rick's family must have been getting ready for the party, and they always loved to have a theme of some sort. One year, it was Batman and Robin, the next was Superman, maybe this year it would be the Green Lantern.

Rick loved superheroes which was something they once had in common.

He continued onto the store and back, and then he spent the day bored and watching lame daytime television.

The next day was the party. Layton woke, quietly put on his clothes, grabbed a cereal bar, and attempted to sneak through the front door.

His mother caught him and yelled. She, then, made him put on his nice shirt for the party. And to make sure he didn't skip out, she drove him to Rick's house and walked him up to the door.

Layton kept his head down as his mom and Rick's mother chatted.

His mom handed Rick's mother a bag, and then she turned and left. Layton silently walked over the threshold, through the house, and into the backyard where a barbeque was going.

The theme was Spiderman.

Grownups stood around a smoky grill and under the awning on the patio, conversing. To his right, he saw Rick, Jeff, and the twins playing a short game of football with each other.

"Hey," said Jeff loudly. "Isn't that Layton Funk?"

That's it.

He unlatched the wooden gate, but just as he was about to leave, he saw Bob and Billy walking toward him.

"Hey, Layton," they said.

Slowly, he retreated back into the yard.

"Layton," said Rick's mom, who'd just appeared behind him. "Were you trying to sneak out?"

All in all, it wasn't a bad day, because Bob and Billy showed.

Rick and his buddies didn't say anything to either of them. Instead, they tossed the football while Layton, Bob, and Billy sat, bored out of their minds, in a shaded corner of the yard. Occasionally, an adult would come up and suggest they join the game.

When it was time to eat, Rick and friends sat at one end of the wooden bench his parents set out. Quickly, Layton made sure to secure the opposite end, leaving the adults to sit in the middle.

After lunch, his parents brought out an enormous football ice cream cake. Everyone, except Layton (and Bob out of loyalty), sang happy birthday.

When it was time to open the presents, Layton wanted to throw up. Watching Rick – a boy who treated him so badly – be spoiled like a prince made him sick with rage. The adults "oohed" and "aaahed" over the toys he'd got, called him young man and smiled at him, as if he were good.

"Wow! The Brancham Monster Set!" and "Whoa! A water proof DVD player!" For each person, he read off a name and said "Thanks."

Finally, he picked up a package and didn't say anything at all.

"And who is that present from?" asked his mother.

"Layton Funk," Rick blushed.

Layton's heart thumped!

He just remembered his mother handed a bag to Rick's mother before she left! His mother always got people the worst gifts! Instantly, Layton knew this was going to be bad.

Rick untied the gold ribbon and pulled back the blue wrapping.

"Layton, you idiot! You always get me the worst presents."

He threw the package across the table at him. It smacked him in the head and landed on the table.

"Rick, you ungrateful child! Apologize, now!"

But he leap off the bench and ran into the house. His mother followed him inside where they could all hear shouting coming from the kitchen.

He looked down at the package. It was a white watch with pictures of cats frolicking on the band. His face turned completely red. "I didn't know. My mother got it for him."

"Let me see," said Billy. Turning the watch over in his hand, he said, "Well, it wouldn't be so bad – if he were a girl!"

Rick didn't say another word to Layton while they were there.

He, Bob, and Billy sat, again, under the shade in a corner of the yard while Rick and his buddies continued to playing football.

Layton tried to remain calm, but inside, he was madder than ever. Once more, Rick completely humiliated him in front of people. Yeah, it was a crappy gift, but was that an excuse to attack him?

Another hour passed.

"I can't stand this anymore. I'm leaving. See you guys."

"Wait," said Bob. "Wanna spend the night?"

"Yeah, I'd love too."

"Here." Billy handed Layton his cell phone and said, "Call your mom and ask."

Later that night, they lay awake, watching television: Billy on the floor, Bob on his bed and Layton on a cot.

Molly came in and checked on them. She brought three mugs of hot chocolate with her and set them down on the night stand.

"Don't stay up too late guys."

After the movie, Billy went to bed.

Bob was asleep, instantly. Layton, however, was burning up with anger.

He decided to take a walk. It helped last time. But just in case Molly or one of the others found he'd gone, he left a note on his bed.

Quietly, he opened the window and crawled out onto the soft dewy lawn. He looked to his right and left and saw that only street lamps lit the alleyway, except for the sensor light that was on in Rick's backyard.

He wondered if he and his buddies were camped in the back. It was something they used to do when they were friends, and they'd get too loud.

He ran over to the fence and peaked between the wooden slats, but it was hard to see anything.

It might have been a raccoon or something, he thought.

But for some unknown reason, he quietly unlatched the fence. Then he walked around to the side of the house where Rick's bedroom was. The curtains to his window had not been completely drawn, and Layton could see Rick was asleep in his bed.

With his fingernail, he put pressure on the perspired glass, and dragged it down ward, creating a high pitched scratch noise.

Rick was a light sleeper; it wouldn't take much to wake him. He continued scratching the glass until Rick sat straight up in bed with his eyes bugged out and his mouth hanging open.

He looked right at the window, but he must not have been able to see clearly because he looked bewildered.

Layton scratched the glass once more.

Rick screeched, leapt out of bed and ran out of the room.

Not wanting Rick's parents to find him in the backyard, Layton left quickly, quietly unlatching and closing the gate.

"What are you doing?"

Layton nearly screamed! It was Bob!

"I felt the cold air and it woke me up, then, I looked over, and you were gone. What are you doing?"

"Nothing, let's go back to bed."
Fangs
Chapter 3

The next morning, Layton and Bob sat down to eggs and bacon with Billy. Coffee in hand, Molly went to work in the next yard. About noon, the boys decided to walk to the school and play on the grounds there.

"So where do you guys live?" asked Layton.

"On the other side of town. Our mother works a lot to support us, so we come over here," said Billy.

"What about your dad?"

"Gone. Never see him," said Bob.

"Sorry to hear that. My dad is around but he's more concerned with his new family now."

"I think our dad has a girlfriend, now."

"My teacher says the average man will have three families in his lifetime," quoted Billy.

"Three families? That hardly seems fair! No wonder kids never see their fathers."

"That's not all. The average woman will have two families in her life."

"No wonder kids hate their moms," said Bob.

"Well, I don't really hate my parents," said Layton, "but I'm really mad at them, both."

"Same here," Bob agreed.

"Ya hoooo!" exclaimed Bob as he ran to the monkey bars and, instead of swinging across by the arms, climbed atop and walked over them, like some sort of balancing act. Layton and Billy followed, and then ran wild through the tubed tunnels of the plastic house that Layton slept in, the night before.

About 5 p.m., Layton returned home for a shower and change of clothes. He started to pack another overnight bag when his mother walked in and asked what he was doing. He explained that he was going to spend another night at Molly's, with Bob and Billy.

"No, you're not," she said.

"Why?"

"Because you're going to meet your father. It's Lily's birthday today."

Lily was the name of his new little girl.

"I don't want to go."

"Too bad. Put on a clean shirt and then we'll go pick up Heather."

Twenty minutes later, they were in the car and driving to Charlotte's house, where Heather was supposed to be.

Layton knew that this could end with Heather getting in big trouble. Worse, when his mother got mad at one of them, she had a habit of making them both pay. On one hand, he would love to see her get busted for a change, but on the other hand, she'd probably be grounded forever. Layton didn't know if he could stand her being home all the time.

"Did you call Heather and tell her we're picking her up?" Layton asked, trying to sound candid.

"No, but I should have," she said as she reached for her phone. "Hello, Jane, can I talk to Heather, please?"

There was a pause as Charlotte's mother told her that, as Layton expected, Heather wasn't there. The look on her face was sour.

Layton's skin got hot.

"Huh," sighed his mother.

"W-was Heather there?" he stuttered.

"No, she hasn't seen her in a couple days."

Layton knew this wasn't good news because he didn't think Heather had been home in a few days, either.

They pulled up to Charlotte's house.

"Wait in the car."

Layton watched her walk up the cement path.

She and Charlotte's mother stood on the front porch for about fifteen minutes before she came back to the car.

"What's up?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Who else does she know?"

"I don't know."

They sat in silence a moment. Then She pulled out her phone and called Layton's father.

Apparently, he hadn't heard from Heather, either, yet he enjoyed yelling at his mom and telling her that she was an unfit parent.

Next, she called the police who, as soon as they pulled up to their house, were waiting to take a report, but they didn't seem to take Heather's disappearance very serious.

When she asked why, the officer replied, "Children often disappear when their parents work a lot, but they always return."

"What are you saying? That this is my fault?" she asked incredulously.

"No, we're saying that most of the reports we get, of this kind, have parents are gone a lot. Now, eventually, they all come home, and we understand you're struggling – we're not judging you, but kids need apparent supervision."

Layton saw his mother's face turn from sallow to red hot.

And just as he predicted, his sister's punishment turned into his. She insisted he stay home with her that night, rather than go back to Molly's. During which, he was forced to listen to his ranting mother.

At nine 'o' clock Layton was in the bathroom and brushing his teeth when his mother's cell phone rang. Wondering if it were Heather, he tip toed down the hallway to listen.

"Where are you?" she yelled.

From there, it got considerably worse.

"YOU'D BETTER GET YOUR BUTT HOME, NOW!"

Layton tried to sneak back to his room, but he stopped when he heard funny sniffling noises.

He walked into the living room and asked, "What's wrong?"

"She won't come home. You don't know where she is, do you?"

"No," he lied. But then, feeling guilty, Layton added, "Sometimes she hangs out with her friends by the river."

"Show me!"

She got up and got her purse.

Layton just stood there.

"Come on, let's go," she motioned toward the door with her arm.

They got into the car, which was still warm from the heat of the day. They drove to the river site and proceeded into the bald spot, where she and her friends were known to be.

In the clearing, there was a small run down wooden house that faced the running water. It should have been condemned, but the trash that littered the ground indicated people spent time there.

His mother looked up and down, but saw no one. Then something caught her attention: a crackling noise came from the other side of the house.

Gripping Layton's hand tightly, she pulled him across the small porch landing of the old house. The other side of the house came into view, revealing a group of teens huddled around a fire, smoking and drinking. And there, in the middle of the group, was Heather.

They, both, looked shocked; their eyes locked for a moment.

Then Heather got up and ran.

His mother didn't waste time. She pounded the leaves, ferociously, with her feat, catching up to her easily. She caught Heather by her hair and dragged her back to the car.

Layton followed.

"Laaayton, I'll kill you!" Heather screamed at him.

"I had to tell her, she was crying and called the cops."

"Don't give him a hard time. You're the one in trouble here. You're not going anywhere ever again!"

She started the car and drove them away from the river.

There was silence for a few moments, but when they pulled up to a stop sign, Heather jumped out of the car and ran. Leaving the car running, his mother jumped out, too, and went after her.

He turned around in the back seat and watched her disappear into a side alley, with their mother in tow.

A moment later, his defeated looking mother returned to the car without Heather and they went home.

The next morning, she was still gone.

His mom stayed home from work that day and didn't leave bed.

Not wanting to bother her, he packed his bag, had some breakfast and left. Even if he didn't see Bob that day, there was no way he was going to stay with her. Not once, throughout the incident, did she ever ask if he was okay.

In fact, he contemplated how his mother hadn't been around for months, except for the few moments she'd take out of her day to bark orders at them, like they were servants. Now she was depressed about Heather, who was a mean, atrocious little brat. Never had she shown any concern for her son whom she left in an unparked car in the middle of the road.

Why is it that the meanest kids are the most revered?

He, further, contemplated Rick, who had everything – the newest toys and all the superhero comics he could possibly want, and all the birthday parties (no one had ever thrown Layton any kind of party). Jeff Barley who, although dumb as door knob, dressed the best and was always going to amusement parks; the teachers always took extra time to mentor him even though he refused to do his homework (teachers never bothered to see if he was okay, except to punish him after defending himself). Then there were the twins who made intimidation their specialty, always had the best snacks, phones, gadgets and always got looks of approval from teachers.

But going back to Heather, who despite having money troubles, always got brand new clothes and even the contact lenses Layton had asked for! Never mind that she verbally abused him on a daily basis. But did his mother ever stick up for him? No. Neither did his dad.

Although there was a cool breeze in the air, it was already getting pretty hot.

He walked up to the abandoned house and sat on the shaded porch. He pulled out his sling shot and practiced shooting rocks across the lawn at the buds of the roses. It took a while but he started to get somewhat good with his aim, and he hit several buds right on their bases. He grinned as he watched their petals burst and flutter to the ground in veil of pollen.

"Layton," a voice called, "you're not shooting my flowers that I worked so hard for."

"No, I'm really sorry. Please don't be mad. I won't do it again."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm cooling off for a bit."

"Why aren't you at home? It's only eight in the morning."

"I got up early to avoid my mom. She and my sister had a fight, and my sister ran off. My mom is home being depressed."

"Well, come over. The kids will be here later this afternoon."

Layton watched television for a while, and then he helped Molly with the flowers. Several hours went by when, at last, Billy and Bob were standing in the yard and Molly was telling them to pot some soil, which they did with great reluctance.

The sun shone harder and harder on their backs but Molly refused to let them go until the job was done. Unfortunately, Bob started a water fight with Billy that led to an all-out war between them: Bob, sick of hearing Billy complain, sprayed him in the back, drenching him. Billy responded by sitting on him and dumping a pot of soil on his head. When Bob tried to get back up, Billy pushed him back down, grabbed the hose and soaked him, turning him into a brown muddy mess.

Finally, Molly told them they didn't have to work anymore. They went inside and Bob took a shower.

An hour later, and still suffering from the heat, Molly decided they should all go to the mall and get some corn dogs and ice cream.

What a great idea!

As soon as they walked in the door of the Planks, the cold air hit them all.

Layton sighed with relief.

After their indulgence, they walked around and browsed. They went through several toy shops, and a few novelty shops that sold things like fake shrunken heads and loads of incense.

Soon after, they came upon the Haunted Halloween Shop which was always open for the summer. Bob was only too happy to follow Layton when he exclaimed that the joke aisle was his favorite section. They closely examined all the fake candy: cod liver oil candy in a variety of different colors, black pepper bubble gum, itching powder and stink bombs, of which Layton happily stocked up on.

Next they walked through all the costumes. They tried on various monster and superheroes, and numerous funny wigs. When they finally got into the vampire costume section, Layton felt a jolt of excitement in every one of his bones. There were long capes, short capes, red and black capes, black wigs, white wigs as well as white streaked black wigs, short fangs, long fangs, and entire mouth pieces. After trying everything on, Bob, Billy, and Molly tired of the vampire costumes and wondered into some other aisles.

While they were off looking at other costumes, Layton counted his money. He had just $10, but that was enough to buy the fangs with the plastic molds you melt in the microwave – and they could be re melted – for just $5. And there was a cheap little black widow peaked wig for $5! Molly wouldn't mind lending a little extra for tax, and so he was set.

After that, the wheels turned in his head, and it must have shown too because Bob asked him several times what he was thinking about. He didn't want to tell him that he could make a cape out of the red sheet his mother didn't use anymore, that with the stink pellets, sling shot, fangs and wig, he could finally get back at Rick; Rick who was easily scared, and who was probably already feeling paranoid because of what Layton had, already, done.

The day was a fantastic one. Maybe he'd give Rick another visit that night.

All seemed well until his mother called Molly's house. She was angry that Layton had been away all day, and she ordered him to come home.

"Why? It's only four 'o' clock. You're always working at this time. You're always telling me I need to get out of the house, so why are you making me come home, now that I've found something to do?"

"I don't want any more back talk. I want you in this door in 15 minutes!"

"Why is it that whenever Heather makes you angry, you punish me? Heather doesn't clean her room, so you make me clean the kitchen. She doesn't call, so you make me stay in my room. She goes missing, and now you want me to come home!"

She started to reply, but Layton hung up on her. She always liked to talk to him like he was an idiot, so there was no point in listening. She'd say he didn't understand; he should show her some respect, yada yada...

Well, Layton thought she should show him some respect by having an honest conversation: one with real replies, and not just "do as you're told." So, when he walked in the door, he went straight to his room and shut the door.

It was the same thing with his dad. He thought Layton couldn't tell when he was covering. Maybe he didn't understand everything, but he knew, instinctively, when something he said or did wasn't quite right.

He ignored his mother's call for dinner and stayed up, watching television until late. When he knew his mother was sure to be asleep, he crawled out of bed and got the red sheets from the hallway closet.

He traced the pattern of a circle cape, as indicated on the back of the pattern he saw at the Halloween shop. When he'd done, he cut along the lines with a pair of scissors. He pinned it around his neck, put on the wig and inserted his glue in fangs, which he'd snuck out to melt in the microwave.

Whoa! Except for his glasses, he looked pretty spooky. He slipped off the glasses and it was foggy but his vision cleared up a bit after a few minutes. He snuck into Heather's room and stole her Manic Panic Hemlock and powdered his face and neck, and then applied red lipstick.

He stowed back into his room, pocketed his sling shot, stink bombs and filled his pocket with little rocks he'd gathered from the alleyway, in order to save BBs.

Layton didn't know what compelled him. But it sure felt good to walk the streets at night, in the cool foggy air that settled that evening.

All the street lights were on and most of the houses were dark. Along the alleyway, it was dead quiet.

He snuck up to the wooden slats and peaked through. Carefully and quietly, he opened the gate and walked up to Rick's side of the house. Standing on tip toe, he tried to see through the foggy windows. A lamp was alight, inside, and sleeping bags were on the floor.

Layton wiped, clear, a spot on the glass. Although he couldn't tell which one, at first, one of the twins spotted him and shot up into sitting position from the floor.

Heart beating, Layton ducked below the window sill.

"What was that?" he heard through the pane of glass.

"What?"

Jacko couldn't tell who said what, until Rick spoke.

"Someone in the window. It looked like a zombie with white skin and dead eyes."

"Ah hahaha," they laughed.

"You're so scared!"

A second later, Layton heard the glass door open around the back.

Scared and having forgotten to hide, he stood up again, and pulled his sling shot from his back pocket.

"Oh my gosh!" someone in the room said.

He turned his head and saw that everyone in the room – Rick, Jeff, and Brad – were staring and pointing at him, with mouths open.

But where was John?

Layton remained dead still where he was, waiting. Finally, Brad stepped into view. He stood out under the lighted portion of the cement, grabbed the sides of his cloaked and raised his arms to the sky, the way Dracula did in the movie.

Brad shrieked and disappeared back around and into the house.

Layton tried to look through the window, which had fogged up again. Thinking of the lady in white from the films, he wrote the word, in large backward letters, "E – T – A – L - O - C– O – H – C. "

He leaned in close to see inside the room. Rick and his buddies stood still, all staring at Layton's face through the window.

It was strange that none of the boys recognized him. Layton continued by writing in smaller letters below the word, chocolate, ".eid ro thgin worromoT"

It took him a minute or two to finish, and especially since he wasn't accustomed to writing words backward.

Layton stood back, a few feet, from the window, allowing his full self to be seen. He threw his cape once more by raising his arms skyward, and opened his mouth wide to show the fangs inside.

Suddenly, John Miller ran to the window and yanked it up. He reached out to grab Layton, but instinctively, Layton hurled a stink bomb through the window.

The plastic broke against the wall, instantly releasing a foul sewage odor. The smell was stronger than Layton anticipated, as up until that point, he'd never broken a stink pellet before.

Unfortunately, the smell was so strong that Layton's eyes watered, and he couldn't breathe. It was like a thousand rotten eggs being cracked at once. Through his squint eyes, he noticed Rick and his buddies were on their fours, hacking into the carpet.

Just then, Brad ran into the room. Layton pointed the slingshot and pressed the button, twice.

CRACK-POP-CRACK!

Half a dozen pellets jetted at once, in all directions of the room, and then ricocheted off the walls.

"OW!" cried Brad, who was, now, on the ground, too, rubbing his forehead.

Suddenly, light flooded the room. Rick's dad stood in the doorway.

Layton didn't waste time; he bolted.

In a hurry to get out of there, Layton didn't realize that he was being watch until he heard a high pitch scream, like a girl's. Jerking his head, there, outside in the alley, was Bob who ran fast back toward Molly's house.

What was Bob doing out?

Layton didn't stop to find out, but he made it through the window and into his room five minutes later. Quickly, he undressed and wiped the makeup from his face. He buried the costume between his mattress and box springs. It was only when he was lying in bed that his heart slowed its beats, and then he laughed and laughed, until he fell asleep.
Pals Stick Together
Chapter 4

The next week, Layton spent most of his time trying to avoid his mother, afraid that to spend too much time with her would land him extra punishments. Often, he'd sneak out early in the mornings, leaving a note on the kitchen table.

Every day, she seemed to grow increasingly agitated. Other than that, things hadn't changed much: Heather still hadn't come home, his mother spent most of her time at work, and his father would call, from time-to-time, pretending he wanted to talk.

His mother went back to the spot on the river several times, but Heather and the kids seemed to have found a new location, because the house on the river was always deserted.

Right under the shirts in the small dresser that was his, lay a small growing pile of chocolate. There were chocolate bars, chocolate jots, chocolate kisses, and two packages of chocolate cakes. Amazingly enough, the boys got the message and had complied, o, at least, Rick did.

Every night, Layton went back and Rick would push a serving of chocolate through the crack of his window. Layton would drop a stink bomb, if he got too close, and then he'd run off; although one night, Rick got the courage to surprise him from behind, at which point Layton nailed him with a dozen pellets – Rick went down fast and easy!

He hadn't seen Billy or Bob in a week because their dad took them to his home for a visit. But he got a call from Bob saying they'd be at Molly's a little later. He sounded normal, and never mentioned the incident in the alley.

Layton climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom. His vision blurred without his glasses, he leant over and reached for the faucet handle and took a pump of the liquid soap.

Rubbing the soap lightly between his palms, the it sudsed up. Then he rubbed it on his face when, "Ow!" he exclaimed.

Something must have bit him while he slept.

Gently, he touched the spot. It was red and round, and extremely sore.

He finished washing up, went back to his room, put on his glasses, and returned to the bathroom.

There on his right cheek was something he'd never seen before but knew all about from a class he had to get permission, from his mother, to attend. It was a fuchsia-red, volcano of a pimple on his cheek. From under the skin, he could feel the pimple pulsate as though it were alive!

Layton reached up to touch it with his forefinger and "Oooowwwww!" he moaned.

From outside of the bathroom, he heard his mother stir. Not wanting to meet her, he hurried out, got dressed, packed an overnight bag and snuck through the window.

His mother must have caught on to his avoidance tactics, because lately, she liked to ambush him over breakfast. She'd instruct him to go to the store or do chores. Every day she had a laundry list that, literally, ruined his whole day. What good was summer vacation, if he spent the whole time doing chores?

Now July, the summer had reached its heat peak of 100 degrees every day before noon. It was sometimes uncomfortable being in Molly's home because she didn't have air conditioning, either, but he'd suffer if only to get away from his mother. Maybe they would go hang out at the mall again? He had another $20 to perfect his vampire costume. It was shopping money he should have bought paper towels with!

Every time he walked down the alley, he always kept an eye out for commotion in Rick's backyard. That day, there seemed to be the sound of scraping on the ground.

Peeking through the wooden slats, he saw Rick's dad pushing the barbeque across the back patio.

Molly was up to the same old – same old, as they say: she was busy in the garden, but this time, she didn't want Layton's help. Apparently, she'd overwatered and some of the flowers needed to be dug up and re planted, despite the heat.

"Not today," she said with the sound of disappointment in her voice. "I gotta do this, delicately, myself. Why don't you go in and watch some television? There's some iced tea in the 'fridge."

Mad Dog followed him into the house.

The couch was too hot, so they lay on the floor, together, and watched Swords of Hollow: a cartoon about the search for a sacred sword in medieval times.

It was about noon when a car pulled up to the front of the house. Layton walked up to the door and saw that Bob, Billy, and a guy Layton assumed was their father, was inside.

Bob got out of the car, walk-stomped into the yard, and slammed the gate behind him. His lips were pursed tight and his eyes were wide and steely looking. He marched right past Layton, without saying hello, and into his room where he shut the door.

Billy got out of the car but was much calmer.

"Hi, Layton."

"Hi. What's wrong with Bob?"

"Dad was going on and on about our mother again. They never can get along. Bob hates it when he says bad things about her."

Layton walked to Bob's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Billy was lying on his bed and looking up at the ceiling. The expression on his face was normal again.

"Hey," Layton said as he sat on the cot on the opposite side of the room. "What happened?"

"My dad was just being a jerk. Going on and on about how our mom was ruining his life, and trying to take all his money to pay for us."

Bob sat up and started unpacking his duffle bag.

"Billy tried to defend Mom, but Dad told him to shut up and called her things that a person should never call a woman. Our mom works so hard to support us, and we still have practically nothing. Like your mom, you know, she's always gone or tired. Billy says it's really Dad who's ruining our lives. He's right. I mean I love my aunt Molly, but he's the reason we're here, and our mother's working all the time."

"I never ever see my mom, either, and when I do, it's to tell me to go to the store and buy something."

"You know, you really shouldn't complain. I mean our mom works a lot too, but she's not a nurse or something. You should see our apartment; it's not even as nice as this small house."

"I never thought of it that way."

"What's that bump on your face?" Bob asked.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah," called Bob.

"Want to go to the Planks?" asked Billy.

YES!!!!

After a fun lunch of hot dogs and ice cream again, Molly went off to look at some dresses, and Billy and Bob went off to the game room while Layton made an excuse about finding the restroom. He told them he'd catch up to them in a bit.

Haha!!!

Excitement coursed through his veins! Today was the day he'd finish his vampire costume.

He went to the Halloween shop. As usual, spooky chants were blaring over the intercom radio.

Layton headed straight for the vampire costumes and makeup, but what he wanted more than anything was a real black cape and white powder and red lip stick because he couldn't keep using his sister's. He only had $20 though!

He sifted through the capes for fifteen minutes before selecting a plain, thin cotton cape with a drawstring neck. It was cheap and thin, but it looked way better than the cut up sheet. He, then, looked in the aisle with makeup. It was just too expensive, though, so he paid the $7 for the cape and went to the .99 store across the street.

He ran across the street, through the parking lot, into the store, and over to the makeup section.

Aha! Everything he needed for cheap! From the 99 cent black eyeliners to the 99 cent red lip liner, and $1.50 for baby powder! Perfect!

After paying for his items, he gathered them all into one bag and ran back to the shopping mall.

Just like they said, he found Bob and Billy in the game room. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that he hadn't been away too long, but they did give him curious looks when they saw the bag.

"What did you get?"

"Nothing."

"Don't look like nothin'" said Bob.

He still had enough to play a few games. Two hours later, Molly came and got them, and she, too, wanted to know what was in the bag.

Layton didn't want to be rude to his friends, but he knew it was best to keep it quiet. All too often, his mother complained about what a gossip Rick's mother was. He didn't need anyone putting two and two together.

Back at the house, Layton stuffed the cape and makeup into his overnight bag, and then went into the living room.

They spent the rest of the day playing cards.

Once again, Layton, Bob and Billy, were in the room watching television before bed. Layton kept waiting and waiting for Billy to leave and Bob to fall asleep when, at long last, 2 am rolled around and Bob lay there snoring lightly.

Layton got out of bed as quietly as he could.

Carefully, he unzipped the bag so as not to make too much noise and wake Bob. He, then, pulled out the little compact mirror he'd stolen from his sister, and pressed baby powder all over his face and neck. Next, he carefully drew in his eyebrows and smudged black around the bottom of his eyes to make them look dull; then he colored in his lips with the blood red lip liner. Lastly, he put on the wig, tied on his new cape, loaded his pockets with stink bombs and pebbles, and grabbed his sling shot.

Slowly, he opened the window and crawled through, but this time, he shut it a tiny bit so that too much air wouldn't wake Bob again. He looked left and right to make sure all was still, and when he was satisfied, he ran across the alley and into Rick's backyard.

Gently, he tapped on the window and stood back. As Rick opened the window, Layton flapped his new cape, tilted his head back and opened his fangs so as to show him his new scary look.

Layton was so proud and thought for sure Rick would be scared out of his mind, but he simply stood there with a curious look in his eyes. He placed a small bag of chocolate jots on the ledge and shut the window. Layton didn't even have time to break a stinky capsule.

Was he not scared anymore?

He grabbed the bag and ran out of the yard, back across the alley, through the window into Bob's room.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH."

"AAAAGH," screamed Layton.

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," Bob screamed again.

The door to the bedroom opened.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," screamed Billy, and behind him a high pitched squeal, "EEEEEEE."

The light came on.

"Layton!" yelled Molly. "What are you doing?"

"Uhh... Nothing. Just trying on my costume when Bob woke up and was scared."

"No, he's a vampire! I've seen him!"

"He's not a vampire; it's Layton," she sighed. "Go to bed; it's late."

She rolled her eyes, turned off the light and left.

Bob backed up against the wall, looking at Layton with wide eyes.

"I'm not a vampire. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I saw you! You know I saw you in the alley, that night."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was trying to get back at Rick for being such a jerk, but I'm not a vampire. I swear."

Bob's eyes contracted and his posture relaxed a bit.

Layton took off his costume and went to the bathroom to wash the makeup off.

Back in the room, Bob was back in bed.

"Why have you been dressing like a vampire?"

Layton explained how it all started: him taking a walk, scratching the window, how the Dracula movies inspired him, and the nightly chocolate rewards. By the time Layton was done telling him all the details, they were out of breath from laughing too hard.

"We should go back tomorrow. I want to help scare him!"

"I can't because I think he's onto me. You should have seen the way he looked at me tonight."

"That's because you look more fake then you did last time."

"But you were scared."

"Yeah because some strangely dressed person with weird skin and hair was standing in my room, and the window was open. Last time, you looked more natural but, tonight, you look more like Halloween. You need a plan."

Layton stayed the whole weekend and brainstormed with Bob about ways to frighten Rick and his buddies so madly that people would think they'd lost their minds.

Bob had a seriously good idea, too.

"Come on," he said, beckoning him into his wroom.

Layton watched him in anticipation.

Bob produced a little carbon dioxide cylinder.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found it next door."

Bob put the little tube attached to the canister into a little bag. He turned on the valve for five-to-ten seconds at a time.

"What are you doing?"

He did it again and again.

"You'll see."

Layton noticed the bag was filling, but with what, he didn't know, because the bag was opaque white.

Finally, Bob was finished and he removed the bag from the can.

"See?"

"What is that?"

"Dry ice," he said with a large grin.

Still confused, Layton said, "Explain."

"Weeell, tonight, you're gonna put on your costume, we'll sneak over to their house and drop this all along the ground, so it'll be misty and foggy. At that moment, you'll drop your stink bomb and I'll be on the other side of the fence playing this disc."

Bob went to his toy chest and pulled out a cd: it was Psycho's Fest Monsters and Screams.

"There's a track on here that plays barking dogs and coyote howls, and they totally sound real!"

"Great!"

"I think we should ask for something more though. I mean, a little bag of candy is nice, but we should demand something more."

"Like what?"

"Hmmm" he said aloud and paced. "What about the Brancham Monster set?"

Layton was uncertain. The Brancham Monster set was a collection of model sized mutants, based on a cartoon about a hero who saved humans on a daily basis.

"Brancham Monsters are his favorite collectibles. Do you really think he'd give them up? I don't."

"I've been wanting the set for years: Spider Face, Wiggy Man, Locust Legs but with the head of cicada! Let's get him where it really hurts. Besides, do you really want more pimples?"

Layton just looked at him.

"I'm gonna help you with getting back at the jerk. Now you can help me with getting my favorite miniature mascots. My mom could never afford them!"

"Well, how are gonna tell him? If I talk, he'll know it's me. I can't write that long of a message, backward, on the window."

"We'll slip him a note!"

Although Layton was a little reluctant to continue, as he was sure Rick was becoming wise, he decided Bob's plan might be worth a shot.

Later that evening, Layton's mother called and demanded that he come home. Disappointed that he couldn't carry out his new plan with Bob, he left in a relatively bad mood.

He opened the door to his house to find his dad sitting on the couch.

"Hi, Layton."

He stood to give him a hug. Layton ducked out of the way.

"Hi," he said and then went to his room.

As soon as he closed the door, there was a knock.

"Yes?"

The door opened and his mother appeared. "Layton, I want you to pack up some things. You're gonna stay with your dad for a couple days."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and closed the door.

The blood within Layton boiled, and the hatred seethed, but then he was numb. He emptied out his overnight bag and brought out a small suitcase his father had bought for him years before. He filled it with a couple pairs of jeans, a couple tee shirts, his toothbrush, toothpaste, and some soap. Next he compressed his sleeping bag into the backpack. He grabbed the little wooden box he liked to put all his favorite items in, and he opened it with the key he kept hidden on the underside of his mattress. Inside, he pulled out his life savings and shoved it in the suitcase. Gently, he opened his bedroom window and climbed out.

Quickly, he ran to the abandoned house with the flowers. Up the stairs, he went to the room on the first floor, which was the cleanest. He sat down and, for many minutes, just stared and asked himself what he was doing? He had no plans or ideas, except that he didn't belong in the same home as his mother or his sister, and he certainly didn't belong with his father.

Was it not proof enough? Being that he'd spent so much time away that summer and, never once, wanted to return home except to get clean clothes?

One thing Layton considered was how his mother and father never asked him anything. They never asked him how he was, or when they did, they ignored his response, like when his mother asked him if he'd had a good birthday several days after his father had taken him out for dinner. When he tried to answer, she decided to take a phone call. Or how about all the times his father would call, talk for five minutes straight, always telling Layton what he should do or needed to do; Layton would say "uh huh, uh huh," and then his father would hang up, which was why Layton didn't talk on the phone anymore.

What was the point? Even funnier, all the times Layton was on the phone with his father, not saying a single word, even when his dad did stop to ask him a question, and no one had ever bother to call him on it, or discipline him for it – because they just didn't care!

Soon, his butt began to hurt, so he pulled out the sleeping bag, stretched out and fell asleep. It was a heavy, drowsy sleep that was, for the first time in a long time, unencumbered with anger, for he was simply too numb.

When he woke, it was several hours later. The night air had begun to move in and the temperature had already dropped several degrees. Twilight was approaching and, not wanting to be alone, Layton decided to sneak next door.

Quietly, he let himself into the backyard and walked around to the side of the house that was Bob's room, but he was not there. More than anything, he wanted to go inside and hang out, but what if his mother called? He didn't want them to get into trouble, so instead he walked to the store and got himself a soda, a sandwich, a flashlight, and some comic books.

He stayed up reading but the cool air and still darkness dragged him back down into the depths of sleep quickly. He woke in the middle of the night, went downstairs into Molly's backyard and over to Bob's window. Bob was inside and asleep.

Gently, Layton tapped on the window.

Bob got up and slid the window open.

"What are you doing here?"

"I want to scare Rick!"

"But your mom said you ran away?"

"No! I'm just next door."

"In the old house?"

"Yeah."

"Well, alright!" Bob grinned. "But you have to go home. You know that, don't you?"

Layton climbed inside with his costume and arms. He slipped on his cloak, put in his fangs and then put on his makeup. As he filled his pockets with rocks and stink bombs, Bob went to get the bag of ice, and then he put on his daytime clothes. Bob gently opened the window, and Layton handed him the little CD player and bag of ice, and then he carefully climbed out, too.

"Wait."

Layton had a thought.

He climbed back inside the room and grabbed Bob's little digital photo camera that had a recording feature. Using the loops of the tie that was used to secure the cape around his neck, Layton fashioned a sort of harness that held the camera in place.

Back across the alleyway, the sensor light came on, lighting up a larger area of the backyard than was usual. It occurred, once more, to Layton that Rick might be onto him.

Still, he continued on.

Layton crept up to Rick's window and peaked through. The twins, Jeff, and Rick were asleep inside.

Bob spread the ice around him and, immediately, it misted over, Bob turned on the CD player, and knelt below the window sill. One of the boys slowly stirred. Layton stood a few feet back from the window and Bob turned up the CD player.

The sound of wolves howling called out.

"OWoooooooooooo!"

Jeff Barley was the first to notice. He sat straight up in his sleeping bag and gave off a yelp. Rick said, "Dude, go to sleep!" and rolled over.

"Look," he pointed at the window.

"Ah! He's back!" said Rick.

The other boys jumped out of their sacks and stood staring at the window.

"Turn the music up more," whispered Layton. He reached into his pocket and threw a stink bomb on the ground.

From inside, Layton saw Rick jump out of bed, rummage in his drawer and run to the window. He opened it and hurled a bag of chocolate cakes at him and slammed the window shut.

Frustrated, because Layton needed to get the note about the Brancham Monster Set inside, he walked up to the window and struggled with Rick who was trying to lock the window into place, but Layton forced it back up.

The boys gagged on the smell of rotten eggs! Layton tossed the note inside and ran.

"Shut the window!" Layton heard as he shut the gate behind him.

Trying to contain their laughs, they rushed quickly and quietly back to Molly's house. Inside they rolled on the floor and bed with laughter.

"I – heard – them – screaming!" Bob laughed.

"I want to see, let me see."

Layton un harnessed the little camera and re wound the recording.

After more good laughs, Layton said, "Well, I'd better be going."

"Are you going back home?"

"Tuh... NO! I'm gonna sleep next door."

"Just stay here. In the morning, we'll tell Molly you suddenly showed up."

He didn't want to, and knew it was a bad idea, but he didn't want to sleep in the old house next door, so he said "Okay," and went to clean his face and take off his costume.

In the bathroom, he saw that he wasn't wearing his wig! There he stood, in the mirror with his poofy blond hair quite obvious, despite his makeup. Surely, they recognized him this time!

"Oh no!"

He knew he'd get harassed even worse than before if they had recognized him.

The next morning, Layton and Bob went out to breakfast before Molly and Billy rose.

Molly was shocked to see Layton, and insisted that he call his mother. Layton, who knew his mother would be at work, didn't have a problem with that, so he called and left a message at the house phone, purposely avoiding his mother's cell phone.

"Mom, I'm hanging out. See you later," he said quickly, and slammed the phone into the cradle.

The rest of the day, Layton and Bob watched movies and messed around in the yard. They murmured and whispered about what they'd done. Billy was suspicious on more than one occasion, but they decided to keep it to themselves.

Later that day, Molly dragged them all out to help her prune next door. As he walked out of the backyard, he saw Heather walking along the alley. He continued next door and listened to Molly explain what he was to do.

Noticing Layton, she walked up to the gate and called, but he ignored her. He looked at her, and then continued to trim.

"Layton, can we talk?"

Molly, Bob and Billy looked between them both but said nothing. Heather walked inside the fence and pulled Layton aside, but he wriggled free and told her to go away.

To his relief, she did.

When they finished in the yard, Layton decided to return home. He didn't want to but he also didn't want to remain in the condemned house. So right before his mother would be back from work, he left Molly's, hoping he could slip into his room.

Unfortunately, his mother's car was already in the driveway, and when he opened the door, she was lying on the couch watching television with a bottle of beer and a smoke in her hand. Layton had never seen her look so miserable in his life.

He closed the door and she looked up at him. They locked eyes for a few moments, and then she returned to watching the television.

Layton was extremely relieved. He went to his room and lay on his bed and watched black and white movies.

He'd drifted off to sleep until about 11 p.m. when there was a loud knock on the door. The knock went on and on, but his mother wasn't answering, so Layton climbed out of bed and went to the door.

There stood Heather with a police officer.
Home Again
Chapter 5

For a moment, Layton stared at Heather and the cop without words. Finally, she said, "Son, get your mother."

Layton walked over to the couch and shook her awake. She walked up to the door looking tired and red eyed.

"Where did you find her?" she asked groggily.

"Sleeping behind your house, in the alleyway."

"Well, just so you know, I reported her missing several days ago."

After a few more words, the cop left. Heather went straight to her room and closed the door, but their mother burst in right behind her.

"Were you really sleeping behind the house the entire time?"

When she said nothing, his mother shouted, "You're not going anywhere for the rest of the summer! If you run off again, I'll move your stuff in with your father and his girlfriend."

"How will you know? You're never home anyway."

"I'm not home because I have to work!"

The shouting went on for another fifteen minutes before Layton's mother burst into his room and shouted, "And you too! You're grounded! If you think you can come and go whenever you want, think again!"

Layton didn't take his mother very seriously. He settled back into his bed and watched television as if nothing happened.

As Heather said, she'd never know because she was never home anyway. It wasn't that Layton enjoyed disobeying his mother, but he needed to get out and do things, just like she said. Not be stuck inside the hot house all day, every day.

Besides, it had been a long time since he'd felt any respect or love from her, or even a slight interest in his life. He understood her sacrifice, but spending time with Molly, Bob and Billy was the only thing that made him happy.

The next morning, Layton woke without the slightest intention of staying home. He looked outside, saw his mother's car was gone, and then went to make breakfast. But before going to the kitchen, he propped his head against Heather's door to see if she were home, too.

Hearing nothing, and feeling relieved, he went into the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal.

Despite loving spending time with his new friends, he enjoyed the quiet of the morning alone. That morning, he thought about his mother and his sister.

Mainly, he thought about how unhappy he was with the way things were. So many thoughts; so many things, and it was hard to organize all that went through his mind at that moment. So he went to his room and got a pen and a paper and began.

Things I Hate About Home

  1. Only time anyone talks to me is to give me orders or call me names.

  2. Being forced to have a relationship with an uncaring father.

  3. Never being asked about my feelings.

  4. Taking punishments for Heather.

  5. No one thinks that my feelings can get hurt.

  6. One minute being told to leave the house, and then the next, being told to stay home.

  7. Being yelled at or punished when I don't understand the offense I've committed.

  8. Dishonest, half hearted, unclear answers to my questions.

  9. Heather doesn't get punished for harassing me.

  10. I get punished for harassing Heather, back.

After he'd done, he felt much better. He wanted his voice to count for more, and by writing his thoughts down, he was instantly able to connect the hypothetical dots between each line, and each complaint: he wanted to be treated better.

And he didn't want to be forced to do things, or to be criticized all the time. He'd like to come to things on his own without his mother constantly telling him to leave the house, find friends, or whatever else. He'd also like to see Heather punished for a change, when she would insult him. He wanted to be treated fairly. His mother always told him she treated him like she treats Heather, but that was another lie! Even he knew it's impossible to treat two people the same.

Layton got up from the table and washed his dish and spoon. The phone range: it was Bob.

"Are you coming over?"

"Yeah, be over in a few."

"Bring something to swim in."

They spent the day at the neighborhood pool. The heat hit another record temperature, and the pool got more and more crowded as the day progressed. It wasn't long before Rick, Jeff and the twins showed up. This, severely, disappointed Layton who was enjoying his, mostly, bully free summer – except for when he was being the bully vampire!

Bob swam over to Layton, who had just done a magnificent back flip into the deep end.

"Do you think they're onto us?" asked Layton who noticed Rick and Jeff sitting on pool recliners and staring at them.

"I don't know."

"What's up with you two?" asked Billy.

They continued to swim about the pool, and even played a game of polo with some other boys who'd brought a net. Layton watched Rick and Jeff out of the corner of his eyes because he didn't like the way they were looking at him.

At one point, the lifeguard left the pool area and went to the public restroom. Jeff swam up, behind Layton as he was wading toward the steps at the shallow end of the pool.

"Hey, Funk," he shouted. "Still have that superman underwear?"

Layton turned away from Jeff and went part way up the steps. Jeff grabbed Layton by the top of his head, yanked him backward into the water, and then pushed his head under. It all happened so fast that Layton didn't have time to think or defend himself. Falling backward knocked the wind out of him so he immediately that he swallowed a mouthful of water as he tried to breathe.

Within moments, Billy was on top of him, and Layton was released. He stood up and coughed out the water, breathing, heavily, in.

Billy dragged Jeff out of the pool; Layton followed.

Billy pinned him up against the fence, but he wiggled free of Billy's grip and ran toward the gate. Layton jumped in front of him and swung a perfect right hook at his face. Blood spurted out over the concrete as Jeff grabbed at his face. Layton, then, kicked him in the crotch.

A loud whistle blew; the lifeguard was on her way back from the bathrooms. Despite all the kids attesting that Jeff had tried to drown Layton, they were all kicked out of the pool area.

In the early evening, Layton went home to get a shower and clean clothes. Funnily enough, he found his list on the living room table. But someone had added to it.

Things I Hate About Home

  1. Mom never says hi.

  2. Forced relationship with Dad who clearly isn't interested.

  3. Forced to spend time with Dad's new family.

  4. No one asks my feelings or opinion.

  5. No real answers to questions.

  6. One moment, am burdened by "adult responsibilities" and next, told I'm "just a child."

  7. Sick of hearing, "I don't have time to explain."

  8. Sick of hearing, "I have to work."

  9. Never shows interest in my life.

  10. Never goes to my school projects.

The list went on for about seven more lines. Layton didn't know what he thought about it, but he needed to get a change of clothes and get back to Molly's because he wouldn't see Bob and Billy for at least a week. Still, it was interesting to know that Heather was as unhappy as he was.

That night he and Bob decided to go out and see if Rick left them the Brancham Monster Set in the floor boards of the house, as detailed in the note. Layton suggested something was wrong; that maybe they were onto them. It was just a feeling but Bob didn't care. He insisted that they try, so they'd kept a long and watchful eye on Rick's house for any commotion.

At around midnight, they finally saw what they were looking for. Rick, Jeff, Brad and John left the backyard and went into the condemned house next door. Shortly after, they witnessed the boys walk back into their yard across the alley.

Layton and Bob snuck out of the house quietly.

Up the weak wood steps they went, and then into the parlor. Bob lifted a loose floorboard in the corner of the room; there was a note.

Dear Mr. Vampire,

Here is your due.

Look behind you!

Quickly, they turned around but saw nothing. A mere second later, they suddenly appeared in the doorway of the parlor: Rick, Jeff, John and Brad.

"Oh, no!" Layton shouted as he grabbed at his pocket for his slingshot.

The four boys ran at them.

Jeff smothered a large cloth bag over his head. From his side, Bob screamed, "HELP! HELP! HELP!"

Someone grabbed Layton's hands and was tying a rope around them.

Layton tried to kick out with his leg, and he got someone in the crotch.

"OWWWW!" someone yelled.

"So you want to play vampire," said Jeff, and then someone punched him in the mouth.

"I figured it was you when I saw you without the wig."

Layton tried to move his arms, but they were tied too tight. Layton threw another kick to the air, but someone pushed him onto the ground. Next to him, Bob continued to yell out for help.

Just then, Layton heard Billy's voice.

"Hey, stop it!"

There was the sound of scuffles.

Layton threw off his head, what turned out to be, a pillow case cover. He looked up and saw Billy with Jeff's head in an arm lock while John had Billy around the neck.

Brad was punching Billy in the side.

With hands still tied, Layton jumped up and kicked Brad, hard in the kidney. He howled and went down to the ground. Then he kicked John in the butt; he then turned and chased Layton around the room.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeff elbow Billy in the stomach, and as he put a foot back in preparation to punch him, Layton ran up and stuck his foot out in time to trip Jeff. He tumbled, violently, onto his back. There was another rumble from behind Layton: John had been tripped by Bob. He fell face forward and was lying on the floor, groaning.

Bob jumped up and untied Layton's hands. Layton, then, grabbed a wood plank from the ground and slammed Jeff, who was fixing, again, to retaliate on Billy, in the stomach.

Billy then punched Brad in the face. He, now, sat in the corner holding his bleeding nose. Layton, Bob, and Billy stood and observed the room momentarily.

"Let's go!" said Bob.

They walked back to Molly's house.

"What the hell were you guys doing over there at this time of night?"

"We were looking for something. What were you doing there?" asked Bob.

"I heard you yelling, idiot! Someone could have called the cops!"

The next day, Layton and Bob were still a little shook up, but Layton was the worst for it because he actually had to go to school with Rick, Jeff, and the twins. Surely, they'd want to get back at him in the worst way.

When he voiced his concern to Bob, he quickly ran to his room, pulled out the memory card from his camera and inserted it into the living room computer. Once the drive recognized the card's files, he copied them over to a blank disc he'd pulled out of the drawer. Then he pulled out a black marker and wrote, 'Mess with me again, and I'll show everyone."

Layton had to go home that day, and he was kind of sad because there was still a few more weeks of summer left to go, and Billy and Bob would be gone for a couple of weeks, visiting their grandmother in the next town over. He wasn't looking forward to their absence, as it had been so nice having friends and things to do. Still, he'd see them again in a few weeks.

More than anything, though, Layton felt that Bob and Billy really saved his neck! Because of them, he was confident again. Plus, it was because of Bob, that Jeff and the twins would likely leave him alone next year at school; it was so cool to see them all knocked out in that house! Thinking about the DVD he'd just left on Rick's window, he wondered if he'd watched it yet and laughed to himself. Then he checked his pocket to make sure he hadn't forgotten his own copy.

When he walked inside the door to his home, it was to see a new note on the table, but this time it was from Mom.

Dear Heather and Layton

,

I'm sorry that I haven't been around much. I'll try to take more of an interest in your lives, but moreover, I will learn to listen. As for your father, he's not perfect, but it's important that you spend time with him because, even though he doesn't act the way you think he should, he still loves you. It's he who wants you in his life, and that's why I send you to him.

Lastly, things are going to change around here because I can't handle everything on my own. Whether you understand or not, I have to work so we don't end up homeless. See, following, a list of responsibilities I expect to be done by you, both, each week.

Love,

Mom

P.S. If you don't complete your weekly end of house maintenance, then you will be cut off from allowance, and without exception. You're right, Heather, I don't have time to punish you, so we're going to try a reward system. No work, no money, no food. If you want dinner later, here's what I expect to see when I come home.

Layton looked at two pieces of paper that were attached to the letter: each had a list of chores to be done each week. Heather's list had more chores than she'd ever done in her life – including a weekly trip to the store! Layton had a weekly trip to the store as well as a dozen chores. He didn't mind, though, so long as it was fair.

The rest of the summer continued to scorch with heat, and although Layton's mother's schedule didn't slow down much, she did take the time and effort to show interest and listen to both Layton and Heather. But there were times when she'd come home and bark orders, like before, and then go off to bed. Layton just realized that that's the way it had to be sometimes.

Things had gotten slightly better with Heather. She continued to party and hang out with her friends, but she seemed to be at home more than usual. Lately, she seemed more relaxed, and there was less hostility in her attitude. Layton supposed she must have come to some sort of agreement with their mother, for he noticed they spent less time shouting at each other.

Strangely enough, their pleasant attitude made Layton feel less like sniping.

One day, at the end of the summer, his father came to get him for a father son hang out at an amusement park. Normally, Layton would just sit and stare, only speaking when his father would nag him to death. This time, however, Layton talked all kinds. This new talkative Layton surprised his father who, as a result, seemed to take an extreme interest in him, which in turn, surprised Layton!

What shocked him most was his father actually asked him questions about his summer; detailed questions about Bob, Billy, Molly, and what they were like. His dad even bought him several souvenirs at the end of the day and, for the first time in a long time, they took a photo together.

Up until the summer ended, Layton tried to spend as much time with Bob and Billy as possible. Layton came to regard them like the brothers he'd never had, and it made him sad that he wouldn't see them much until the following summer. Still, it was nice to know that he had them to look forward to, next year.

He still felt a pit in his stomach when he contemplated returning to the school where he had so many bad experiences. One morning, as Layton stood in the bathroom frowning at his reflection, his mother walked in and handed him a small bag. He looked up at his mother in shock. It had been about two weeks since he'd seen her for more than a few minutes at a time, and now she was giving him a gift?

He pulled the paper from out of the bag and saw two little black boxes. Inside one was a pair of black knock off Bono Concert Vertigo glasses and, in the second one, a pair of dark blue. The excitement at seeing such cool sunglasses hit him instantly.

"So does this mean I'm getting contact lenses?"

"No, not this year. You're too young, I think."

"Well, how am I gonna wear these?"

"Try them on!"

He took off his glasses and slipped on the Vertigos – they were completely clear! He could see better than with his old glasses!

"They're prescription! Oh, Mom, thanks!"

He gave her the tightest hug he'd given her in a long time.

"Here," she said, handing him $40, "go get a good hair cut, and a bottle of gel if you'd like."
Back to School
Chapter 6

The first day back at school wasn't so bad. He was a little nervous, and there was still a little pit in stomach, but he got over it when he realized he was in a different class then Rick and his buddies. That was lucky! At that point, it felt like starting over, which Layton was more than happy to do.

To further his good mood, he'd received several compliments on his glasses, and was even invited to sit with a fairly well-liked classmate, Mike, whom Layton was assigned to partner with on a biology project. At the end of the day, they had several good conversations and even exchanged numbers.

On his walk home from school, he saw Rick, Jeff and the twins, but they didn't say anything to Layton. Instead, they were busy harassing some other kid Layton didn't know.

Rick looked bored and out of place. In contemplation, Layton realized that Rick was not a bully personality, but rather just a big coward and a follower.

Still, he picked up his walking pace because the last thing he wanted was for Jeff and the twins to start a fight with him, which even though Layton had leverage against them, he still didn't put it past them to try, anyway.

"Hey, Layton!"

He turned around and, to his surprise, there was Rick running toward him. Instantly, several thoughts rushed through Layton's mind: he could make up with Rick by waiting for him to catch up, or he could turn around and run away from him, the way he'd done so many months before. He was torn between being a good person and being as shallow as Rick was, the year before.

And like that, Layton turned around and ran to the end of the block. Looking back, he saw Rick walking with his head hanging down. Well, he figured he didn't have to be a really good person at the moment, and maybe he'd apologize the next morning on his way to school. But the main thing is that Rick now knew what Layton felt like the year before.

Langley's Blues

By Jamie Ott

Copyright   Jamie Ott 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission.

Black Crowe Publishers: an imprint of Passionate Prose Industries

ISBN-13: 978-0615517129

ISBN-10: 0615517129

For all inquiries, please contact passionateprose@mail.com.
Blanket of Chill

Chapter 1

Night was coming fast.

The wind was a death-chill that no one person or thing could escape.

Three kids huddled behind the Central Mall dumpster, shivering.

Bruce had his arm wrapped around Tatia, whose teeth chattered loudly.

Not more than a foot away, Jack sat on the cold, hard asphalt, hugging his legs.

"If we don't get somewhere, I'm gonna die," said Tatia through clenched teeth.

Jack stood up, resolute, and said, "Let's go!"

"Where?" asked Bruce, partly annoyed and partly curious. Half the time, his ideas got them into trouble, and the other half, got them what they needed.

"I don't know but sitting here on the ground isn't a good idea because it's only going to get colder. My butt already feels like a chunk of ice."

"We could sneak into my father's shed. I know where the key is. Problem is, if he finds us, he'll kill us," chattered Tatia.

"No, look what he did to you last time you were there!" Bruce said angrily.

Begging on the streets during the fall and winter months was the worst. With holidays and all; people in a bigger hurry to get where they're going, they hardly collected any money during those times.

After several days had passed, and all they'd eaten was a couple cans of tuna, Tatia snuck into her father's house to find food.

She thought he was at work!

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted.

Tatia dropped the loaf of bread and turned.

When she wouldn't answer, he lost it.

She turned to leave, but he pinned her against the wall and gave her one of his mind blowing welts.

Tatia slipped out of his grip, bolted through the kitchen sliding glass door, into the back where she hopped up onto the brick wall that fenced in the yard.

In a hurry to get away, she lost her footing and rolled off the wall, smashing onto the ground where she broke her nose and her glasses.

Her nose healed rather quickly, but her glasses were shattered. The white tape that now held them together almost glowed under the light of the moon.

"We could try the City Pan again?" suggested Bruce.

It was one of the few shelters that took people in without asking questions. For a couple of underage kids, their options were few, and especially during winter as more and more adults sought shelter earlier in the day.

"No, the beds will be taken," Jack replied.

"Well," Tatia said, as she stood up, "let's go. The cold coming up from the ground is just as bad as the wind. The neighborhood park lawn will be warmer."

As they made their way through the Pickley Hills neighborhood, they were careful to stay in the shadows. They needed to avoid adults who would call the cops. In their part of town, it wasn't common to see teens lurking the streets at night.

Tatia lived in the neighborhood for as long as she could remember and although it was a middle class neighborhood, her family wasn't at all respectable.

The first time she left home, she'd spent the night at the Pickley Hills Park. That was where she met Bruce and Jack. Since then, they'd stuck together no matter what.

"Oh no," she said soddenly, and stopped walking.

From a block away, they could see the sprinklers, at the park, had been set.

"Let's keep on," said Bruce. "We'll just have to squat tonight."

They continued past the park, and into another neighborhood.

"What do you think of this one?" asked Bruce, as they approached a dark house with a 'For Sale' sign.

"It's been sold," said Jack. He pointed to a trail of heavily disturbed dirt that lead up to the front door. Its screen was slightly bent out of place, and there were scuff marks on the porch. "Someone's been moving things in."

After a few more blocks, they happened into a wealthier neighborhood. Nearly every house had tall security fences that protected the mac mansions in their midst.

"This looks good," said Tatia with hope, as they approached a tall gray manor style house. Its gate had been left open.

They walked up to the porch. Jack peered through the front window.

"Oh, man," he groaned excitedly.

"What?" asked Tatia.

"There's a table setting and dishes out; candles and silverware, too. They're probably going to show it tomorrow."

"Think there's food in there?" asked Tatia.

"Gosh, I'm starving," said Bruce.

Jack did a 360, and seeing that none of the neighbors' lights were on, urged Bruce and Tatia to keep a lookout while he went around back.

A moment later, they heard the sound of breaking glass. Next, an alarm sounded off.

"Oh, no!" Bruce said in a loud whisper. "Jaaack!"

They turned around and around, looking for neighborhood security cars.

"Jack! Come on! I hear sirens; they're coming, now!" Bruce said hoarsely.

Carrying a bag, Jack ran past them and out of the gate; Tatia and Bruce followed.

They turned right and ran to the corner, made another right and then a left.

When they finally stopped running, they found themselves in an unknown alley.

"What did you get?" asked Bruce.

"Chicken and some rolls."

In the distance, they could still hear sirens.

"Did anyone see us?" asked Jack, panting for air.

"I don't think so," said Bruce.

"Great. The last thing we need is to get into trouble with the police again."

"Hey, what if we crashed here?" asked Tatia.

Jack turned to look behind him. Bruce moved his head over, so he could see around Jack.

Across from where they stood was a large wrought iron fence that was barely visible through a barrage of ferns that were growing out of control.

The property was dark and still; the gardens were overgrown and the grass was over three feet high.

In the center of the property was a two story house; its brown paint cracked and peeled on every square inch of its surface.

"What do you think?" asked Bruce.

"Vines are growing up through the cobble stones," Jack commented. "Ivy has broken through the window. I'd say it looks like a good place to hide out for a couple days or more... maybe weeks."

The sirens got louder.

"Okay, help me up," said Tatia.

Bruce and Jack intertwined their fingers, giving her a boost. She grabbed the top of the fence, lifted her leg up and over, and jumped onto the ground.

She, in turn, stuck her hands back through the iron bars and clasped her fingers with Jack. Bruce jumped over and, together, they stuck their hands through the bars, once more so Jack could follow.

Right as Jack dropped to the ground, flashing lights glared down the alley.

"Hide!" Jack said.

Tatia and Bruce jumped to the right side of the bushes while Jack jumped to the left.

They stood real still as the police car drove, slowly, by.

When it'd passed, they went up to the tall, dark and creepy house, and looked through the windows.

"I can't see anything," said Bruce.

"Let's go in," said Tatia.

The lock was rusty, for Jack only had to ram the door with his shoulder once. It swung back, wildly, hitting the wall.

Inside was dark and dusty. The only thing they could see was the cobwebs that were highlighted by the moon.

Bruce pulled his backpack off and pulled out his little battery operated fluorescent lamp.

Holding it at arms-length in front of him, he, slowly, stepped over the threshold and into the entrance hall. Jack and Tatia stayed right behind him.

They stopped in front of a large staircase that lined the wall to their right.

Tatia sneezed half a dozen times.

"Ugh!" she cried, trying to swallow. "I think I'm allergic to dust!"

To their left was a large filthy parlor room.

In the center, covering a plastic wrapped couch was the largest spider web they'd ever seen. Next to it was a plastic wrapped chair.

"I'm not going in there until someone finds the spider and kills it!" said Tatia. "I hate spiders."

Ignoring her, Bruce and Jack continued further into the living room.

"Hey, did you guys hear me?"

"It's just a spider, Tatia," said Bruce.

Despite her protest, she followed, closely, behind them.

Facing the couch was a sooty fireplace with old knick knacks scattered on its mantle. All along the walls were books, magazines and newspapers piled high. In the right corner, half a dozen wood chairs were piled on top of one another.

"A fireplace; thank goodness," said Tatia.

She made to go and grab a chair to start breaking down for a fire.

"Wait," said Jack. "Let's inspect the rest of the house, first."

Although the house had many rooms, it only took a few minutes to check them out.

Past the parlor was a dusty old den. In the corner, stood a glass display case with an old record player, and some photographs.

The front room was completely emptied, except for dusty cobwebs that hung everywhere.

Sticking close to one another, they went back, past the parlor, into the kitchen.

There were still dishes in their cupboards, and pots and pans hung from the ceiling. A microwave that was completely covered in spider web sat on a counter.

"AAAAAGGHHH!!!" screamed Tatia.

She grabbed Bruce's arm.

"AAAGH!!" followed Bruce.

He jumped back, stepping on Tatia's foot and nearly knocking her over.

"Will you shut it!?" said Jack.

With bulging eyes, Bruce pointed to the kitchen window.

It was missing a curtain. Perfectly outlined by the light of the moon that shone through was an enormous tarantula spider.

"Relax, guys, they're harmless," said Jack, as if it were nothing.

"Wrong!" Tatia Blurted. "The females are bad!"

"That's not a female," said Jack, who picked up a large pot and placed it on the glass, over the spider.

"Quick, give me something flat to keep it inside the pot."

Bruce handed him a plate from the cupboard.

Carefully, Jack slid the plate between the glass and the pot. A little black leg stuck out as he did this, making Tatia scream again.

"Open the kitchen door for me."

Bruce did as he asked, and they watched him carefully carry the spider outside.

Gently, he squatted in the three foot high grass. He set the plate on the ground, and jumped back as he lifted the pot.

They watched the softball sized spider scurry away, and then he said, "I advise being careful. There may still be other spiders in the house."

Upstairs, they found half a dozen emptied, but dusty, rooms, except one that had an old, moldy mattress.

A door at the end of the upstairs hall opened up to a set of attic stairs.

When they opened the door, there were many scurrying and scraping sounds. They made it to the top of the stairs in time to see a family of raccoons waddling to escape through the broken window.

One turned around and, barring its fangs, lifted its paws and hissed.

"WAAaah!" Jack yelped.

"Are you seriously scared of a coon?" asked Bruce incredulously.

"Yeah, did you see the size of its teeth?"

"It's just the light, Jack."

There were boxes everywhere, piled in stacks of 5 feet and higher. In the center were more plastic wrapped couches and chairs.

"More spider webs!" cried Tatia, taking in the voluminous string that covered the furniture, boxes and ceilings. "I'll see you at the bottom of the stairs."

A moment later, Bruce and Jack reappeared in the hallway.

"Probably best to check out the attic during the day," said Bruce.

They followed Jack to the room with the moldy mattress, which they dragged downstairs into the living room.

Half an hour later, they sat on the couch, eating baked chicken and rolls in front of a fire.

Since Tatia had allergies, they turned the plastic inside out and laid it on the mattress, creating a nice clean film for them to put their sleeping bags on.

One thing they never did, until they were sure of their surroundings, was split up. So they pushed the furniture back against the books that lined the wall. That night, Bruce climbed in between Tatia and Jack, on the mattress in front of the fire.

But Tatia couldn't fall asleep. For some reason, there was something about the house that made her uncomfortable. She didn't want to say anything, but several times since they'd arrived, she'd thought she'd heard moaning.

When a particularly foul scent singed her nose hairs, Tatia said, "Gosh, you suck."

Bruce tried to pull her back, as he laughed.

She wrenched her shoulders out of his hands, went to the couch, and watched the fire for a bit.

Tatia reached into her backpack, and pulled out the picture of her mother. Sometimes, she liked to imagine what it would have been like, if she'd stayed.

Her father liked to tell her over and over that her mother couldn't stand her; that without warning, she'd picked up and ran, one day. She didn't believe it, though. Even if her mother did do what her father said, she would've never left Tatia behind.

In many fantasies that she'd had, Tatia imagined that one day her mother would return. She'd grab Tatia, and they'd run for it; it wouldn't matter where they went, either, just as long as they were together. Every day, she would go to school and, when she'd come home, her mother would be waiting for her. They'd do homework together, and then she'd make her dinner. When she was sick, she'd make her chicken soup. They'd be so happy because, together, they'd have escaped the ogre that was her father.

Tatia was distracted from her thoughts when a rush of cool air blew all over her, making the hair follicles on her arm stand. The fire flickered ferociously, leaving her in complete darkness for a moment.

She got up from the couch, walked to the staircase, and looked into the darkness, wondering if a window had blown open in the den or the front room.

A creeping sound, like the whining of a failing brake echoed through the hall.

At first, she didn't think much of it, but then the sound seemed to get closer. The whining traveled through the air and blew directly into her ear.

Tatia screamed and jumped back.

"Shut up!" said Jack annoyed.

Ignoring him, Tatia slowly backed into the wall. Wind blew through the room, blowing up the dusty curtains, making the rods rattle.

Jack sat up and looked around the room.

The whining brake sound turned into a high pitched steam whistle that blasted through the air.

Bruce jumped out of his sleeping bag.

"What was that?" he asked.

The draft and the whistle continued to blow louder and louder.

They raised their hands to their ears.

Bruce and Jack backed against the wall, next to Tatia.

Suddenly, a loud CRUNCH noise rent the air.

The noise came from a hole that'd been punched into the wall on the other side of the room.

Wood splinters and dust sprayed across the room.

Holes continued to appear in a straight row, across the wall.

Tatia covered her eyes to protect them from wood shards.

CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

PSSSSH, sprayed more wood.

Tatia was too scared to scream. Bruce's eyes were bugged out, and Jack jumped each time a new hole appeared.

Bruce and Jack watched the trail of magically appearing holes, all the way to the brick fireplace, where it hit iron behind the wall, and made a high DING!

The holes stopped appearing.

The waves of the fire flickered again. Bruce shrieked and yanked at Tatia's arm.

Tatia uncovered her eyes and asked, "What?"

"Look!" said Bruce, pointing at the hall.

Floating toward the living room was a whited out ghost of a man. It had round eyes and an oblong opened mouth that made it look like a lost soul.

The steam whistle blasted through the air again; they grabbed their ears.

"What's in its mouth?" asked Tatia. "Ewww!"

A black, shiny substance was turning over its tongue; it leaked over his lips and bled all the way down his shirt.

Slowly, it levitated closer and closer to them, as more sludge goo-ed out.

Jack looked about the room for a quick solution. His eyes settled on the fire poker.

He grabbed it, raised it skyward, and slashed it down through the ghost.

Instantly, it disappeared, leaving a wisp of white in the air that slowly dissolved.

"How did you know to do that?" asked Bruce.

"I watch T.V."

Tatia ran to her sleeping bag and began rolling it up.

"What are you doing?" asked Bruce.

"I'm getting out of here."

"You can't leave! This is a great place! No one's been here in forever. We can probably spend the winter here."

"What if it comes back?"

Jack handed her the fire poker.

"If you get scared, swipe the ghost with the poker," he said.

"I think he's right," said Bruce. "You know how it is. We could search for weeks, and never find a place like this. We just have to learn how to live with a ghost."

Get Comfortable

Chapter 2

The next morning, they made it a priority to bathe. Most of the time, they were forced to wash with the ice cold water of Pickley Hills Park bathrooms.

Jack and Tatia heated pots of water by setting them on the fireplace while Bruce snuck out to find breakfast.

When he returned, he had Captain Crunch and a carton of orange juice.

"Did the neighbors' see you?" asked Tatia.

"No, I was real careful going out and coming in."

"No milk?" asked Jack, whose hair was still wet.

He walked over and set the large pot of water on the fireplace.

"I didn't realize it was juice until I was halfway down the block. The clerk was onto me, and the only way I got away with these was because a couple of Joey's kids came in and pepper sprayed him in the eyes."

"That's terrible!" said Tatia.

She was sitting with her back to the fireplace, hoping her wet hair would dry quickly, as the house was still very cold.

Joey was the city's bully.

In his father's warehouse on the other side of town, he resided as an unofficial magistrate to a host of about a hundred kids.

In exchange for letting them stay there, the kids provided public services, such as window washing, pick pocketing, shop lifting, and sometimes burglary.

The kids would give him all their earnings, in exchange for his 'protection' and his silence.

"Well, you want to eat, don't you?" asked Bruce sarcastically.

Tatia walked to the kitchen and brought back a couple bowls and spoons.

"Yeah, well, just don't let them do us any more favors," said Jack. "As it is, I don't know how I'm gonna get my guitar back."

When Tatia got her nose broken, Jack and Bruce went to Joey for help. The hospital wouldn't admit her without health insurance or an up front payment.

Jack gave Joey his father's 1952 Roy Buchanan Fender Telecaster, in exchange for the $1,000 they needed to get Tatia's nose fixed.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Tatia said. She grabbed the cereal and juice, poured them into the bowls, together.

"You don't have to apologize, Tatia. I don't blame you, but I've got to get it back. It's the only thing my father ever gave to me, and it's worth a lot more than $1,000."

"Like how much?" asked Bruce sounding excited.

"I don't know. It's just what my father told me before he died, but I won't sell it – not for a million dollars."

"Well, today's Tuesday," said Bruce. "I'm gonna mow Mrs. Henderson's lawn, so that's $20; tomorrow, I've got Mr. Bracket, so that's another. I'll go through the neighborhood, today, and try to drum up some more business, too."

"Right," Tatia chimed in. "Today I'm going to school. I'll raid the kitchen and get food supplies; hopefully enough for the week, so that's one less expense. Then I'll give blood, that's $20, and Mister Crane on Milton Street said he'd pay me for my newspapers today, so that should be another $20."

Sounding downtrodden, Jack said. "I don't have anything lined up today. What am I gonna do?"

"Wash windows, of course," said Tatia.

"Great. Maybe I'll make five bucks, if I'm lucky."

"Jack, five is five; you can't give up," Tatia said sympathetically.

"Maybe we should go and work for Joey?" Bruce suggested, taking a bite of his cereal.

"No," said Jack. "We shouldn't get any more mixed up, with him, than we already are. If there's one thing I know about Joey, it's that he doesn't like to let go of his debtors. He'll always come up with an excuse to pull you back in, and make you his slave."

"I've got an idea" Tatia said as she munched. "You should scavenge this house today. We don't know what's upstairs in the attic. For all we know, there could be valuables."

"Great idea," he said. "I'll go through all the boxes, and even the kitchen. We'll sell what we can."

They flinched as a sudden noise blasted.

Waaaaaahhh!

The sound was like the far away, prolonged horn of a train.

"Aah!" Tatia jumped in her seat, nearly spilling juice over the side of her bowl.

The wind around the room blew again, rattling the curtains.

The ghost appeared again. This time, he looked angrier than before. A copious amount of sludge issued from his mouth as he made the floorboards rattle, and the couch levitate.

Jack ran for the poker. The ghost, seeing him with it, backed away and around the room.

WAAAAHHH! the ghost wailed louder.

Jack chased him around the couch several times before he gave up and disappeared, leaving behind another wisp of white.
Roy Buchanan

Chapter 3

After breakfast, they went their separate ways: Tatia to school, and Bruce to mow lawns.

With a trash basket, a bucket of hot water and towels, Jack went up to the attic.

The air was thick with dust. He choked on the scent of recent animal urine.

"Achoo! Ugh..." he heaved.

He walked to the broken window, stuck his head out and breathed in deeply. Then, he opened the two other windows, allowing a breeze of fresh air to sweep the room.

When Jack was a kid, his father told him all about Roy Buchanan and the Potato Peeler, Bobby Gregg.

"The best darned musicians of all time!"

He grabbed the broom and stuck the wide end with the bristles into the largest cobweb that was attached to the couch. Jack twisted the broom, rolling the web into a huge wad. When he got as much of it as he could, he used his fingers to pry it off, and dropped it into the trash basket.

Jack didn't meet his father until much later. His mother told him they'd met up in a moment of fiery rock 'n' roll passion.

That was about all he needed to know. He was fine without his father. Never, did he ask any other questions about him or why he wasn't around, until one day when he got a letter in the mail.

'Dear Jack,

I'm your father.

I'm dying. Come visit me.

Your Dad,

John'

That was it; that was all it said.

No I'm sorry for being absent; sorry I never sent you a card; sorry I never bothered.

Nevertheless, his mother insisted he go. She printed him a ticket, packed him a lunch and took him to the train station.

"In case of an emergency," she said as she shoved a wad of cash into his front jeans pocket.

When he arrived at his destination, his father stood there looking like a grim reaper. He was dirty, wheezy-breathed, and sleazy looking.

John moved Jack into the spare room that would have been his nurses, but he didn't need or want around the clock care, yet.

Every day with his father was torture. Jack tried not to fall asleep as he rambled on and on.

On more than one occasion, he wanted to tell is father to shut it, so he could have some peace and quiet. The man could talk for hours, going over the same details, repetitively.

Jack said nothing, though, out of respect for his dying father. But in all the days, he never stopped talking about his time as a musician.

Two weeks after Jack moved in, his father got worse. Instead of just dying, like Jack anticipated, he wasted away. He got skinnier and skinnier, until he couldn't walk.

Jack, then, stayed by his side, and listened to his ramblings as he lay in his hospice bed, which had been moved into the living room.

"Buchanan made his distortions without a pedal," he remembered his father shouted at him, over the television commercial. "These days, musicians have it too easy; these days, guitars are made of tin and fiber board," he'd scoff. "No wonder they can't make music worth a darn. They don't have to work for it!"

One night, his father told him that no one in his family liked him very much. They called him a bum, reckless and impulsive, only cared about making music and nothing else.

"They'd say different if I was Mick Jagger or Mc Cartney, or Lennon," he coughed through phlegm. He grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth.

"People, they love music, but they don't want to suffer the sight of a musician. They turn on the radio, but they don't hear the music. Most of the time, it's just words they hear, and they don't even understand them, not really. They hear a real musician playing next door, trying to perfect his craft, and they tell him to shut it – even call the cops. People are fakers."

He reached over for his smokes, and tapped one out.

"Oh but son, that night in the Ozark, we knew we were headed for success. We knew we were good. The people loved us, but then Roy showed his true colors. He showed what a traitor he was, and it ruined my life.

Me and Roy, we were best friends, but he was half wolf-half man, just like they said. Roy didn't get along too well with others, neither."

He took a deep inhale.

"HOOOOooooo," he blew loudly. "Roy had one guitar: a 53 Telecaster nicknamed Nancy. It's in a museum, but what most people don't know is that he had another: A 52 Tele.

Sure, Nancy was nice, but 52 was as perfect as it got. That was the year they perfected it. The year after, they cheapened the Fender Telecaster. Not only does the 52 allow both pickups to be used at the same time, but look at this: Slot heads, not screws!"

He stopped a moment, as Jack examined the guitar.

"Anyway, Roy got into it with one dude over creative differences. He felt they should have been doing what he told them.

Now, I was just protecting my friend. Roy wasn't much of a fighter, like he thought he was. He was just scary looking, that's all. This dude was more than I could handle though. So while I was getting the crap beat out of me, he made off with this."

He indicated the guitar by tapping it with his finger.

"That was the night I went to jail. The dude was real well known, real respected; the law was on his side from the get go. He was a church goer, and it was the Bible belt. I was just protecting myself; I wasn't drunk and messing up my life, like people like to say."

He paused a moment, to wrestle back the emotion in his voice.

"Seven years, I did over that. Should'a been ten, though. Still, I never got back on the train after that. It was like my time was done. No one wanted to give me a second chance.

And, yet, sometimes I blame myself for never making it. I was broken, when I left prison. Hell, I didn't even touch a guitar the entire time that I was in there."

He took another drag and said, "Many years later, I caught up with Roy at the Rockaplast show. He thought I just wanted to say 'hi.'

All he wanted was to get away from me because he knew that if he hadn't left me, I'd have never killed that guy and gone to jail. We were supposed to be tight. Roy knew he'd betrayed me.

Anyway, he pretended to be glad to see me, and then he made some lame excuse and left the room.

That was the night I stole my '52 tele from him, haha. I thought it was the Nancy, and I didn't realize it wasn't until later. Still, I heard that he was downright angry, and that he was gonna find me and put a bullet in me. But he died instead.

Oh but it was me, the Potato Peeler, and Roy. We were good and we were tough. But that was back in '52. Waaay back when."

................

Jack listened to his father's incessant ramble for several weeks, until the cancer took him into a coma.

When he didn't wake after several days, the nurse said it was probably permanent.

Relieved and thinking he could finally go home, he called his mother that very night. To his surprise, she insisted that he stay with his father until the very end.

Violent anger welled up inside him. He didn't want to spend another moment in that house.

She didn't understand what a torturous experience it had been for him to spend each day with the foul scents of his dying father.

He knew he should be ashamed for feeling the way he did, but he'd have given anything to be anywhere else.

When Jack protested, she insisted that he needed to be there for him, in case he woke.

"He's your father!" she shouted at him. "How could you be so selfish?"

He was going to do as his mother wished.

His mind changed when a few a days later, the nurse came in and started instructing him on how to change his diaper and sponge bathe him.

He just couldn't do it.

The man was a stranger to him. Why should he do for his father, what he never did for him as a baby?

So that night, Jack grabbed the 52 Fender Telecaster, and left.

Every day, he felt guilty about it, too. That first night away, he wandered to the Pickley Hills Park.

Sitting on the moist, wet bench, he pulled the telecaster from its ugly brown velvet case.

It was obvious that the guitar was old. The alignments were funny; the spacings were off.

He ran a chord. It felt nice and warn, the way the strings resisted and pulled back.

Unimpressed, he put the guitar back in its case. He never touched it again.

A whole week passed with him sleeping at the Pickley Hills Park, and wandering the streets. Nights later, he ran into Bruce, who used to spend time there, too.

They'd talk and watch the families come to the park and have parties. Sometimes, other teenagers would come by, too, though not for good times: more or less, good time trouble.

Bruce was the first person he'd talked to about his father. He was a good listener, too.

After Jack had finished talking, Bruce said, "Jack, you have to go back. Your father is not you, and you have to be better than him. He ran away, and now you're running away."

Bruce gave Jack the kick in the pants that he was looking for. It gave him the courage to go back to his father's cottage at the hospice.

He intended to apologize. From that point on, he was going to do whatever to make his death easy.

But when he got back to the cottage, it was empty. He knocked on the door, repeatedly.

Finally, he walked to the side of the house and peered through the sliding glass window.

No one was there. The living room was completely emptied of all furniture.

At that moment, a buzzing feeling erupted on the hair line of his forehead, and traveled down his face, back and body.

A ringing noise in his ears deafened him.

In a zombified state, he walked blindly, but with eyes wide opened, through the neighborhood.

Eventually, he made his way back to Pickley Hills Park, where he met up with Bruce again.

Nearly every day, Jack remembered the crackle sound the tobacco in his cigarette made, as he dragged on it. Anytime he heard anything like it, or saw smokers, he thought about his time in the hospice.

Even as he worked in the attic, he tried to forget those weeks with his father, but the images and conversations played themselves over and over again, in his mind.

It was late in the afternoon before he finally sat for a break.

He'd cleaned out most of the cobwebs, and swept up all the animal droppings.

So deep in the last memory of his father, Jack was that he jumped when Tatia walked in.

"Wow, this place is looking good!"

Jack had pushed all the boxes to the left side of the room. All the stuff he'd pulled out were in piles on the right.

In the lower corner on the floor, he'd piled old clothes. Just up from that were old raggedy toys, and, up from that, a couple of old jewelry boxes.

Immediately, Tatia walked over and lifted some of their lids and pulled out their tiny drawers.

She found a couple old rings and necklaces.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," she said. "Looks costume to me, but some of them have the little stamps on them though. So they're real gold, though it's old. We just need to clean it up a bit. Toothpaste will do it: that's what Maggie at school always says."

"Who?"

"Just some stuck up rich girl."

She walked over to the pile of toys. She picked up a doll with bright red hair. "Wow, some old ugly toys, but someone might want them."

She stood up and walked to a large stack of 10 lb cans that said "Bully Beef."

"What in the world are these?"

"I think they're rations from the army."

"Wow, 1949, it says. Well, I guess that means you didn't find much. I hate to say it, but I don't think these necklaces will fetch much. You know how pawn houses are."

"Are you kidding?" he asked, looking at her like she was crazy. "These cans; this green helmet and clothes are vintage stuff. Someone will buy these. Trust me. Plus, I've still got another dozen boxes to go through.

We'll sell what we can to the pawn shop. With the rest, we'll take it to the swap meet on Saturday."

"How are we gonna get these cans to the swap meet? They're humungous."

"I don't know; I need to think about it."

"Whoa!" said Bruce, who had just walked in. "I can't believe all this stuff."

Jack smiled and said, "It's great, isn't it. Maybe I'll get my guitar back sooner than later."

"Did you get any food?" asked Bruce. "I'm starving."

"Yeah, I got quite a bit, but I don't think I'll be able to go back. The cafeteria guy saw me."

~~~

That evening, they sat on the couch, eating ham and cheese sandwiches.

"Did you see the ghost at all today?" asked Tatia.

"No but I felt him."

"Weren't you scared?"

"Heck, no! I told him to go away, and he did."

Just then, as if he knew they were talking about him, the sound of a whiney brake entered the room.

This time, they didn't panic. Rather, they waited for the noise to abate.

When his white form didn't appear, Bruce said, "What's up, jerk?" to the air.

Waaaaahhhhhhhh!!

The couch rumbled and shook.

"Bruce, shut up! Don't call him names," said Tatia, trying not to drop her sandwich as she held onto the back of the couch.

"Aww, what? Did I hurt your wh'ittle fee' wings, aww..."

The ghost appeared directly in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes. Tatia gagged as more black sludge spilled down his front. Then, fast, he flew into Bruce and disappeared.

He screamed and jumped off the couch.

"That was cold!"
Bad Side of Town

Chapter 4

That night, they slept, together, in the living room again; afraid that to split up would give the ghost easy advantages.

But Bruce just couldn't sleep. Gently, he rose from the mattress.

After putting on his shoes, he tip toed to the door. As he reached for the handle, the ghost appeared.

Bruce drew back his hand, not wanting to feel the icy cold again.

The ghost lingered, looking him in the eyes, almost as if it were asking him where he was going.

"None of your business! Now, move!" he whispered.

Wah! Said the ghost, and then it disappeared.

He closed the kitchen door behind him. All was dark in the alley, except for a tiny light in a window on the second floor of a house, a few rooftops over.

Bruce flinched. He thought he saw someone in the window, but when he looked again, there was no one.

Along the dark streets, he went, through Pickley Hills and past the midnight labor line.

Twenty minutes later, he was on the other side of town. He entered a retirement trailer park community.

His grandmother wasn't allowed to have permanent residents under the age of 65.

He wasn't sure how old his grandmother was, but she sure was deaf. Sometimes, she tried to talk to him, but it was hard to move her mouth around her dentures. They were too big for her shriveled mouth.

Bruce didn't know if she understood that her daughter had gone off with her man, leaving him in the house that was, later, sold off at a foreclosure auction.

She was just too old.

She didn't have any other visitors, except grocers, so Bruce tried to visit her a few times a week.

Bruce got the key from under the plant's pot, in the bed next to the step.

Inside smelled just as musty as always.

From the room in the back, came the sound of her snores.

He tip toed into the kitchen.

Though he looked in the cupboards and the refrigerator, he had no intention of taking food from her. She barely could afford to feed herself. In fact, Bruce had skimmed money meant for him, Tatia and Jack to buy her groceries, from time to time.

For the moment, she appeared to be doing alright.

Bruce turned to the kitchen sink, which was where she kept all her medications.

Though he never told Jack and Tatia, sometimes the cash he got was not from mowing lawns, but rather from selling his grandmother's pain medications. He could get $10 for each of the little blue ones.

Bruce pulled out ten and left the rest. He hated to do it, but he had to get Jack's guitar back from Joey.

After all, it was his fault that Tatia got hurt. If he wasn't so hungry, he would have never persuaded her to steal food from her father's house.

His grandmother's arthritis would be fine, he told himself. The pharmacist would chalk it up to senility, like he always did, and give her the extras that she'd need.

He put the pills in a sandwich bag and pocketed them. Then he fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning, his grandmother woke him with the sound of her hearing aid, like a high pitched radio frequency.

"Hi," she managed to mumble.

Her eyes were so shifty that sometimes, Bruce didn't think she could really see him. "B'e'kfest," she managed to get out.

"Okay," he said.

Over coffee and eggs, Bruce talked to her, telling her that everything was fine. He told her about the house he was staying in, and how Tatia was scared to death of spiders. How Jack was in trouble with the guitar.

Despite the hearing aid, he was sure she didn't hear anything he said. He kept talking, anyway, because he didn't like the idea that hearing loss separated her, leaving her without an ability to connect with people. In other words, he didn't want her to feel lonely.

After breakfast, they watched television for several hours.

When he finally got up to go, she beckoned him with her hands to follow her.

They went to her room.

She pointed to under her bed.

He bent down and dragged out a heavy box.

Then she led him to the kitchen where a few sets of keys were hung. She pointed to the ones she wanted.

She beckoned him back to her room, where she motioned for him to open the box.

He did as she asked, revealing a large mess of papers.

Bruce pulled all the documents out, and carried them to the table.

They stood over them a moment, as she motioned that he should go through the paperwork.

"Listen, I can't right now. I really gotta go. Tatia and Jack get worried when I stay away too long. By, Grandmom," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll pick up your meds, and I'll see you tomorrow evening."

Instead of returning directly to the manor, he tripped down the street, to the nastier side of town. Past the labor line again, he went out to the building that used to be Joey's family cannery.

At the back of the building was a small black door. He pulled the key out of his pocket. One was given to all the kids there, but if they lost it, they got beat by Joey's 'seconds,' as he liked to call them. Then that person never got another key ever again.

The one he pulled out of his pocket belonged to Mira, a friend of Jack's.

He walked down the long dark hall, into a work area that had been turned into a bar and dining area. Up above were many offices, all of which had been turned into living rooms.

Up the stairs he went, until he made it to Mira's, on the fourth floor.

He knocked, softly, on the door.

A second later, a cute dark haired girl opened up. "Hey," she said, stepping back for him to enter.

"Here, you go." He handed her the key.

"Thanks. I think you should go quickly. Joey's got it in for you."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. Did you do something? He said you're not allowed in here."

"I didn't do anything! I don't know why he'd say that. Well, listen, I got something. I was gonna trade them with Joey, for cash, but maybe you can trade them for me, then. It's to help Jack get his guitar back."

He pulled the pills from his pocket.

"I can't because he'll know they're from you; everybody knows you sell medication."

There was a knock at the door.

"Open up," came Joey's voice. "It's me. I know you got Bruce in there."

She opened the door, revealing a tall, skinny guy with a long dark pony tail.

"I knew I saw you come in. What do you got there?"

He stepped in and swiped the little baggy.

"Those are mine!"

"No, they're mine. You still owe me for that $1,000. It's been six weeks! Where's my money?"

"We're getting it together. That's what I was selling the pills for."

"Not anymore. Consider it interest. Who invited you in, anyway? You're not welcome here until you get my money."

"No one; I just walked in."

Joey didn't believe Bruce.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he asked Mira. "If you ever let him or his buddies in again, you're out of here. This is your last warning."

Then he looked at him and said, "Now, get out."

Bruce seethed all the way back to the old house. One day, he promised himself that he'd get Joey back for all the problems, and all the cruelty, he was responsible for.

He climbed over the bars of the alley fence.

Before he went inside, he turned his head back and made sure no one was watching.

In the distance, he saw the window from the prior evening. It was open, but no one was there.

Feeling wary, he continued inside and found Tatia and Jack in the den. Jack was cleaning and rummaging through things, and Tatia was messing with the door to the glass case. Like the other rooms, it was filthy from neglect.

"Hey, guys," said Bruce.

"Hey," said Jack. "We finished cleaning out the attic."

"Yeah, I noticed all the boxes in the living room."

"We're gonna take them to the swap meet, on Saturday. I found a big old wheel barrel in the back. We can use it to haul all this stuff."

The sound of breaking glass made Bruce and Jack jump.

Tatia lost her patience when the door wouldn't open, so she'd put her fist through it.

The ghost, who had been floating about the room, watching, wailed.

Tatia didn't pay attention until he somehow managed to send a book end, flying at her head.

"Duck!" shouted Bruce.

She hit the floor, looked up and said, "Quit it, Jerk! We need this stuff more than you do!"

The ghost wailed again.

"Shut up!" Tatia bellowed. "I'm gonna kill that ghost! You watch!"

"You can't kill a ghost," Jack laughed.

"I'll find a way."

"Look at this," said Bruce, who'd come up to the case.

In a framed photo, a man with a goatee wearing a black leather hat and jacket, stood next to black man with a guitar on his back. The man with the hat had a special light in his dark eyes, and the black man smiled widely.

She picked up the frame for a closer look.

"That's the ghost, when he was alive," said Bruce.

"Why is it so cold all the sudden?"

She turned and shouted, "Aah!"

CRASH!

The ghost was right behind them, looking down at the photo.

She bent over to pick up the broken picture frame.

A faint sound echoed through the air.

"Do you hear that?" asked Jack.

"It's music like my father played in the hospice. I think this one is called The Crossroads Blues."

Tatia pulled the photo out of the frame. On the back, 'Langley and Jones, 1968' was written.

"His name's Langley," she said aloud.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Bruce.

They looked at the ghost whose eyes seemed unusually hazy.

The music got louder, and the guitar harsher.

"Maybe he was a musician when he was alive," said Jack.

The music got even louder.

"Yes, I think you're right," said Tatia, who'd picked up a ribbon that lay on the top shelf of the case. "First place, state fair, 1975."

"I don't understand" said Bruce. "Where's the music coming from?"

"It's his memory that we're hearing. Watch his eyes!"

And, indeed, his eyes were focused on the photograph in Tatia's hand. He was deep in nostalgia.

"You like blues, Langley? I know the Crossroads Blues. Personally, it's not my thing, but, as soon as we get my father's guitar back, maybe we can play together."

The ghost wailed.

"SHUT UP!" cried Tatia.
Saturday at the Swap Meet
Chapter 5

The following Saturday, they chanced being seen. They pulled the large wheel barrel out of the shed. Into it, they put as much of the clothes, toys, and books as they could; they even managed a couple cans of the army rations.

Having decided to try and sell the jewelry themselves, Tatia put the small collection of rings and necklaces in her pocket.

Langley put up one heck of a fight, as he steam whistled, train horned, and brake whined all about the rooms. He'd even taken to punching holes in the walls again.

When that didn't scare them, he flung the remaining chairs that were piled in the corner, across the room at them. Every time they walked into or past the living room, they had to duck.

When a chair just barely missed Jack's head, blasting chunks of wood all over him, he said, "Langley, please, I have to get my father's guitar back.

You see, I never knew my father, until he wrote me recently. I was so mad that I stole the guitar and ran off with it. I lied about my father giving it to me. The truth is, I skipped out on him while he was dying of cancer. That guitar meant a lot to him, and when I think about it, I really think he wanted me to have it. That's why he went on and on about it, and his days as a musician. I used to think that I didn't care about my father, but now I realize that I lost a part of myself when I lost him. I can't lose the guitar, too. As long as I have it, it's almost like he's with me."

The ghost merely stared at him, black droolies tossing about in his mouth as usual, and then he floated away, silently.

They wound their way through the streets, as fast as they could with the load they had. To get the best spots, they had to get there before everybody else.

The swap meet opened at 9 am.

For the first few hours, not much happened. People randomly wandered through the many stands, purchasing things here and there.

By noon, a couple of serious looking 'antiquers', as they called them, showed considerable interest in their stand. From them, alone, they managed to get several hundred dollars for most of the toys, and a couple cans of the Bully Beef.

Tatia did pretty well, too. She managed to sell off all the jewelry, bringing their income to nearly $650.

Jack was in high spirits and thinking that maybe they'd earn back his guitar by the end of the day, when Joey's Seconds happened by.

"Hi, Jack," they smirked.

Rob was a fat kid, and ugly, too. Pock marks sprinkled all over the right side of his face, kind of reminded Jack of a comic book villain.

His buddy, Nick was much easier to look at, but had a terrible lisp.

"Nice stand," Rob said and started smacking things to the ground.

"Stop it, now," shouted Bruce, "or I'll have you thrown out."

"Whoa, I'm scared, haha."

Nick laughed, too.

"Trying to earn back the money for your father's crappy guitar?" he asked, folding his fat arms over his large breasts. "Well, don't bother."

"Why?"

"He's decided to sell it," Nick said with a strong raspberry.

"No, he can't. Tell him to give me a little more time."

"You got seven days to come up with the money. After that, it's so along," he grinned. "He's already got several bids, too."

After that, Jack was really depressed.

"Don't worry, we'll get it back. We only need $350 to do it," said Bruce.

Langley hovered in front of the fireplace, drooling as usual, watching them talk.

"How? Got any ideas? Because I'm all out."

Langley whined, and floated around the couch continuously.

"We still got more cans of Bully Beef. Those ladies were crazy about them."

Langley stopped floating around the couch, lowered himself down, his feet disappearing into the carpet and brake whined directly in their faces.

"I think he's trying to tell us something," said Tatia.

Slowly, he turned his whole body to face Tatia.

"Yes, he's trying to communicate," she added.

They watched him float toward the hall.

"Come on," she said. "He wants us to follow him."

They got off the couch and followed him to the den. He settled near the glass case, looking at the top shelf.

Tatia reached up and felt along the back of the shelf. She felt something cold and hairy.

"Eww... I think I just stuck my hand into a spider web."

Carefully, she pulled the item out.

"A beautiful gold locket?" said Tatia.

The locket had little rubies and emeralds attached to the front.

She clicked the little latch on its side.

"There's a picture of a baby. Is she yours?" Tatia asked.

The look in his eyes told her yes.

"It is pretty old. I don't think we should sell something like this," she said. "What if she's still alive? It'd be just like with you and the guitar."

Waaah! Sang the ghost, as it bounced about them.

"I think he wants us too," said Bruce.

"Thanks, Langley," said Jack.

~~~

The next day, Tatia and Jack took the locket to get it appraised while Bruce went to check on his grandmother, again.

Bruce warned them about the person in the window, several rooftops over. So, this time, they looked out of the kitchen window to make sure they weren't being watched before leaving. Then they went to Eddie's Pawn Shop on the East side.

Unlike most pawn brokers, Eddie was generally a good guy. He'd taken pity on them several times, when they were really down and out.

Still, he could be quite as shady as the people he did business with, all day long. One never knew which pawn broker persona of the day he'd be: Nice Eddie or Conman Eddie.

"Hey, Eddie," said Jack, as they walked up to the jewelry counter.

Several people lingered about the shop while Eddie's security guard stood at the entrance with his arms crossed, looking tough.

"Hey, kids," he said with a gravelly voice. "What have you got for me today?"

He pulled the locket from his pocket and set it on the counter.

Eddie picked it up, and walked it behind the counter.

A moment later, he said, "Well, I'll give you $1,000 for it."

Something about the light in his blood shot eyes gave away a hidden excitement, making Jack suspicious.

"We'll take it!" shouted Tatia.

"Hold on," said Jack. "I think you're messing with us."

"Why would I do that? I've helped you out so many times. You don't trust me? I'm taking a chance just buying this from you. One, you're under age and, two, how do I know you didn't steal this?"

"We'll think about it," said Jack.

Eddie handed Jack the chain.

Outside the shop, Tatia said, "What are you doing? That was exactly what we need to get your guitar back, and have lots of cash left over."

"Come on," said Jack.

Tatia followed him across the street, and a few blocks over.

A few minutes later, they found themselves in the nicer part of the business district.

They stopped in front of a tall white building with a Spanish tiled roof top. A large sign hung on the door, it said, 'Crafteers Auction House.'

"What are we doing here?"

"My mother brought me here, once, when I was a kid. If I remember correctly, they authenticated some necklaces she'd inherited from her mother. I remember some old lady came in and sold them a painting, too." He put the locket into her hand and said, "Here's what we're gonna say..."

After they'd come up with a story, they walked up to the serious looking man who sat behind a desk in the Crafteers lobby.

After claiming to be brother and sister, they told him a story about their grandmother leaving the locket to Tatia.

"It looks to be Russian, late nineteenth century. The stones are definitely real, and the gold is fine. Any paperwork?" asked the jeweler. "We can't buy anything, unless we know it's not stolen."

"No. How do we prove that it's hers?" Jack asked.

"We can do it, but you'll have to leave it here for a week or two. We'll run a background check, and a police inquiry. When we're sure it's free and clear, we'll call you."

The man began scribbling on a pad.

Jack looked down at the locket, and clicked it open and looked inside it.

"You know, we're gonna think about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's a family heirloom. We need to be sure."

"Jack!" said Tatia, outside.

"I can't do it. This locket meant something to Langley, and I bet it would mean something to his daughter, if she's still alive."
Moving On
Chapter 6

When they got back to the house, Bruce was still gone. They showed Langley the locket. He wailed lightly.

"We just couldn't do it. It'd be different if you were dead. Although I guess you, technically, are, but something that means this much shouldn't be sold for money."

Jack set it on the mantle above the fireplace.

The ghost merely floated there a few moments, and then disappeared.

They set about to rummaging through the house again.

"We'll take the rest of the Bully Beef, dishes, and leftover toys to the swap meet tomorrow," said Jack.

When Bruce didn't come home that night, they didn't think much of it, as he was prone to disappearing for a day or so. But when he didn't turn up the next morning, they began to worry.

Tatia and Jack paced the house, wondering if they should go on to the swap meet, or find Bruce; even Langley lingered about the room longer than usual, before disappearing.

"Where do you think he got to?" asked Tatia.

"I don't know; I just hope it's not jail or some city home for kids."

"Think we should call the police?"

"I think we should go to his grandmother's house, but I don't know where it is. I never asked. Gosh, I'm so stupid," he said, and smacked himself in the head.

After waiting an hour to see if Bruce would show, they pulled out the wheel barrel and hurried to the swap meet without him.

A few hours went by, and they hardly sold anything.

"What a terrible day," said Jack.

"We're about $200 away. Don't give up just yet."

The rest of the day was just as dull. By the time the meet closed, they'd managed to sell off the last of the army rations, but they still had most of the old musty clothes.

"We're still about $100 away," said Tatia. "Maybe we should just go to Joey and beg him to take $900."

"No, he won't. Trust me."

They threw the last of the clothes into a trash bin, and went back to the house. For hours, they stared, depressed and quietly into the fire. Langley continued to float around the couch.

At midnight, they were about to call it an evening, and go to bed, when Bruce walked in.

They turned and gawked at him a moment; Langley stopped his room revolutions.

Tatia leapt off the couch and shouted, "Where have you been?"

Slowly, he walked to the couch and sat.

"My grandmother died."

Surprised, they said nothing.

"The good thing is I've got a thousand bucks."

He pulled a wad of cash from out of his pocket.

~~~

They tried to comfort him.

Jack made him a sandwich and gave him a cup of cocoa.

"I've just been walking around for hours and hours."

"I know how you feel. I did the same thing when my father died."

Bruce told them everything that'd happened to him, since he'd seen them last: About how he walked in and found her in her chair, still and cold. He, then, called the police, who called some relatives to come and stay with him, in the trailer, until they found a living arrangement.

"I tried to escape, but they kept a close eye on me. That's not the worst of it though.

Hours ago, they sat me down with a city youth attorney. He told me that I was adopted."

"Wow," said Jack. "Do they know who gave you up?"

"No, they said it's the law; they can't tell me who my real parents are."

"Wait, so I don't get it. Why would the woman, who adopted you, go through all that trouble just to leave you?" Tatia asked.

"Well, I don't remember much because I was still young, but my parents did fight a lot. One day, my supposed father left. I guess he was tired of it."

"And then your mother left, later?" asked Jack.

"Yeah."

"Where did you get all the money though?" he asked.

"My grandmother left me as sole beneficiary on her life insurance, which wasn't much money, but it's something. I can't touch any of it until I'm eighteen, but the lawyer said my grandmother authorized me a cash advance of $1,000. I guess she really heard me, all those times that I spoke to her; it's almost as if she knew she was gonna die."

"So what, now?" asked Jack.

"Now, you guys go get your guitar. Me? I'm going to stay here. I just need to be alone."

After Bruce went upstairs to wash up, Jack said, "Well, I'm gonna go get my guitar. The auction's up in a couple days. We haven't time to waste."

"Agreed," she replied. "Let's go."

They ran out of the house, and down the street at high speed.

When they made it to the cannery, Jack banged on the door until a kid, he'd never seen before, opened it.

"I need to see Joey."

The kid stepped back and let them in.

Jack and Tatia followed the kid down the hall, into the large work area that had been turned into a dining area. On the wall, a television show played from a projection on a shelf, at the opposite side of the room.

A bunch of kids sat in random seats, watching: including Rob and Nick.

"He's in there," said the kid, motioning to the large office on the right side of the room.

They walked up to the door and knocked.

Joey opened the door, looking angry. His lips pursed, and his face turned red.

"What are you doing here?" he asked loudly.

"I got your money. Now, gimme back my guitar."

"Well, I'm sorry," he said. "But the price is now $10,000."

"What? How do you figure that?"

"That's where the bids are at. Turns out, the guitar is a real vintage piece. In fact, for others like it, I've seen the reserve set at $50,000. So if you can come up with that kind of money, I'll give you first dibs."

"We made a deal, Joey. That guitar means a lot more to me than money."

"Then you should have paid me back weeks ago."

Just then, Rob and Nick walked in.

"Now, you both got two minutes to leave, or I'll have you thrown out."

They heard footsteps and the scraping of chairs from behind. Tatia and Jack craned their necks and saw that all the kids, watching the film, had stood up. All at once, they turned and looked at them, leeringly.

~~~

When they got back to the house, they told Bruce all about it.

"That cheating jerk!" he shouted. "I should have come with you."

"It wouldn't have done any good. All that would have happened is we would have had a fight, and we would have been outnumbered."

"So what do we do?" ask Bruce.

"We need a plan because I'm gonna get my guitar back, one way or another."

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"What the heck, and at this hour?" he said to the air, annoyed.

"What if it's Joey or one of his seconds?" asked Bruce.

Jack, Tatia, and Bruce walked, quietly, into the kitchen. Bruce and Tatia each grabbed a pan, for self defense, while Jack peered through the window over the sink.

He turned back and said, "It's Mira."

Relieved, they set down their pans.

Jack opened the door and asked, "Mira! What happened to you?"

The dark haired girl from Joey's warehouse stumbled in, grabbing onto his shoulder for support.

She had several bruises on her face.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"Sort of," she said as she hopped in on one foot. "Joey said if anyone let either of you into the cannery again, that person would be kicked out. Well, they assumed that I let you in, when you came by with the money. I refused to leave, so they dragged me out."

"How did you know we were here?" asked Tatia.

Jack closed the door.

"I followed you. I called your names but you didn't hear, and with my ankle twisted, I couldn't run to catch up with you."
Operation Buchanan
Chapter 7

Jack helped Mira to the couch.

"AAAAGGGGHHH!!!!" she screamed.

"SHUT UUUUP!" shouted Bruce, Jack, and Tatia at the same time.

"Do you want the neighbors to call the police? Because we'll then be sleeping on the streets!" said Jack angrily.

"What is that??" she asked sounding hysterical, pointing to the man floating in the corner.

"That's Langley; this is his house!" said Tatia.

"What's that in his mouth?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's something to do with the way he died. Probably choked on something, or was suffocated," she replied.

"Is he safe?"

"Of course he's safe! Just don't tick him off!" said Bruce annoyed.

After Mira was calm, they gave her a cup of cocoa, and then discussed how they were gonna steal back the guitar.

"I know where he keeps it: under his bed. He's tried to play it a couple of times, but he's really bad," said Mira.

All the while, Langley bounced about the room, silently observing.

They waited until midnight, the next day, before they left the house and ran back to the warehouse. Mira stayed behind, keeping her foot elevated.

In the back of the warehouse, Tatia said, "Okay, when I get to the unlocked window, I'll throw this," she bent over and picked up a handful of gravel, "letting you know that I'm ready to sneak in. If I go in through the front, even with a diversion, someone will still see me; there's just too many people living here."

"Great, and when I think it's safe for you to go in, I'll scream, 'Langley's Blues,'" said Jack.

"Jack, you take off running up the street; Joey and the others will follow you, and I'll follow them. That way, if they catch up to you and start beating the heck outta you, I can attack from behind, taking them by surprise." added Bruce.

"Okay, but meet me back at the window ledge after you're done. If I try to leave through the door, I'll surely be seen. This means I have to leave through the window, and there's no way I can walk the ledge with that enormous guitar case. I might drop it."

Once they were agreed, Tatia jumped onto the large green dumpster. She reached up and pulled the fire escape stairs down.

She climbed up to the fourth set of stairs, stepped out onto the wide cement ledge, and disappeared around the side of the building.

Keeping her back against the wall, and trying to stay calm, she quickly edged her way to the window with the broken latch.

Once she reached it, she tossed the little rocks back out toward the lot.

The next thing she heard was Jack banging, hard, on the door.

"Get Joey down here. It's him and me, now!" she heard him shout.

When he said the safe words, she immediately crawled through the window.

Quietly, she lowered herself down to the floor of the long hall.

She walked, fast, across the aluminum floor, trying not to make too many clopping noises with her feet.

Sitting at the steps was a young boy she'd never seen before.

Silently, she contemplated what to do.

When nothing came to mind, she decided to act natural.

She walked toward him, and said, "Hi."

The kid said "Hi" back. He hardly seemed to care whether she belonged there or not.

So she ran down the steps without another thought.

A girl she knew sat, watching the projection on the wall. They weren't friends, but she hated Joey just as much as Tatia did.

The girl looked up at the sound of her approach, and motioned, with her hand, toward Joey's room; then simply went back to watching the projection on the wall.

From her pocket, she pulled out the automatic screw driver that Bruce had given her, before they left the house.

Easily, she removed the door knob. She ran across the room and grabbed the guitar case from under Joey's bed.

Her heart almost beat out of her chest, as the sound of voices echoed from down the hall.

Some of the guys were already coming back.

As she pounded her way back up the stairs, the voices of Rob and Nick floated through the air.

Tatia ducked in the room that used to be Mira's. She stashed herself and the guitar under the bed.

Several people came into the lounge and hung out, and resumed watching television.

Joey came back, cursing and yelling angrily.

Tatia snuck out from under the bed and peered out of the office door's window.

Below, she saw Joey and the others talking and making angry motions with their hands. He hadn't, yet, noticed that his door had been broken into.

She was really sweating, and didn't know how she was going to get out of there.

Bruce or Jack must have realized she was still inside because, all of the sudden, loud ringing noises blasted from the walls.

The fire alarm had been set off.

A bunch of doors above and below opened. The sounds of a hundred feet pounding the aluminum stairwell bounced off all the walls.

She hid back under the bed until it got really quiet, and then she opened the door and peered over the rail.

"Tatia! " whispered Bruce, making her jump.

"I'm coming," she whispered back.

She ran up the steps and found Bruce hanging in the window.

Tatia handed him the guitar. He walked the ledge and handed it to Jack, who was in the fire escape.

Sirens and lights blasted from the front of the warehouse.

They ran across the empty back parking lot, as fast as they could.

"What happened to everyone?" she asked breathlessly.

"They left because they didn't want to be caught by the fire department."
Buchanan's Back
Chapter 8

Back at the house, they celebrated over soda and a frozen pizza. Even Langley was in high spirits, as he floated dizzyingly fast around the couch, wailing, occasionally.

"We did it, we did it, we did it!" said Tatia. "Wow, I never felt such an adrenaline rush as I did tonight, haha," she laughed.

"YOU did it, Tatia!" shouted Jack.

"Cheers!" said Bruce, who held up his soda cup.

"Why don't you play something?" asked Mira who was still resting her ankle.

Jack sat with his back to the fire. He opened the guitar case, and pulled out the little battery operated amplifier.

He plugged the amp cord into the guitar and played the Crossroads Blues, as he remembered it from his father's radio.

"Wow, such a dreamy sound," said Tatia.

"My father said that's what the telecaster is known for: its sound."

Langley liked the subtle dreaminess of the chords he played. His eyes were hazily fixed on Jack's guitar.

Though the place had no electricity, the lights flickered on and off. From Langley's memory, they heard musical accompaniments and someone's strange voice singing along.

~~~

They didn't get to bed until the sun had been up for several hours.

Mira slept on the couch. Although Langley was no longer a threat, Tatia, Bruce and Jack, still slept in the living room because it was the warmest place in the house.

Neither of them heard when or how Joey and his seconds got into the house.

"AAAAAAAaaaaahhhhh!!!"

Jack shot up, violently, while still wrapped in his sleeping bag.

Tatia rolled over and said, "Mira, the ghost is friendly."

"That wasn't me," she said.

"Bruce, wake up," Jack said as he slapped his arm.

The whited out form of Langley floated, wailing, into the room.

"What is it, Langley?" asked Tatia.

He floated around the couch, quickly, with more sludge in his mouth than unusual.

Then there was a banging noise coming from the entrance hall.

BAM BAM BAM!

They all got out of there sleeping bags, as the banging continued.

Jack tip toed to kitchen, and ran back into the living room, a moment later.

"It's Joey and his idiots," he said.

The banging continued.

Jack picked up the guitar and put it back in the case. "You guys hide upstairs in the attic," he said, and then shoved the case into Tatia's hands. "I'll go for help, through the front door."

But then they heard the sound of the kitchen door bursting open, and banging against the wall.

Tatia ran up the stairs.

"Stop her!" cried Joey.

Nick ran up the stairs after her.

Bruce made to go after Nick, but Rob tackled him, pinning him to the ground with his shoulders. He punched at the sides of his head, but Rob didn't seem to feel anything.

Just as Jack was gonna go for Rob, Joey pulled out a switchblade knife.

"You're gonna get me the guitar, now, or I'm gonna kill you."

WAAAAAHHHH! Wailed the ghost, making Joey jump.

The fire flickered.

"You don't scare me!" he shouted at Langley, who levitated around his head.

Bruce groaned as he struggled with Rob, on the floor.

From upstairs came a loud thumping noise, and a scream.

"Tatia," yelled Bruce. "If he hurts her, I'll kill all of you!"

Langley disappeared from the room.

A second later, Nick floated down the stairs, arms and legs flailing, as he screamed.

They heard the kitchen door slam shut. Nick banged on the door, and then all went silent.

Surprised by what he saw, Rob slackened his grip. Bruce pushed his forehead back and punched him in the neck, making him fall breathlessly on top of him.

Bruce pushed him to the side.

As he stood up, Joey grabbed Bruce by the hair, yanking back his neck, and pointing the knife at his jugular.

Jack leapt to Bruce's defense by grabbing the knife in Joey's hand and forcing it upward, past his scalp.

From behind, Rob had gotten his breath back, and was, now, choking Jack by the neck, and trying to drag him away from Joey.

Langley returned. He steam whistled noisily, and threw wood chairs aimlessly through the air.

They all struggled a moment in each other's grips; then there was the loud sound of something breaking, followed by Rob falling into Jack. Under the weight of Rob, Jack was pushed, heavily, into Joey, making him stumble and put pressure on his arm.

The pressure forced Joey to relinquish the knife, as he cried out in pain.

Jack stumbled forward, a few steps past Rob. When he got his balance back, he then turned and saw that Mira had smashed Rob in the back with one of the chairs, causing the chain reaction they'd just had.

Distracted by the pain from having his arm bent backward by Jack, Joey loosened his grip on Bruce's hair.

Bruce wrenched his head out of Joey's grip. He turned and punched him in the face, sending Joey back into the staircase.

"Come on," said Jack, who ran to Mira and helped her hop up the stairs, followed by Bruce.

They knocked on the attic door.

"Tatia, let us in," shouted Jack.

The door swung open.

"What can we find to fight these guys with?" asked Bruce, when they got to the top of the attic stairs.

"I've got a wood board," said Tatia, who held a 6 x 36 inch plank in her hand.

"I found one more can of Bully Beef," said Jack.

At the sound of Rob or Joey ramming the attic door, they froze for a second.

Tatia ran to the stairs as they burst through the door, and up the steps.

Right as they reached the attic floor, Tatia sent the flat side of the plank straight into Rob's stomach, dropping him to the ground.

Joey grabbed the plank, wrenched it out of her hands and threw it at the wall.

Just then, the last can of Bully Beef flew through the air, and hit Joey on the forehead. His eyes bugged out in surprise, and then he dropped to the ground like a dead weight.

They all looked to the center of the room, where Langley was floating idly.

"Thanks," said Tatia.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me," said Jack to Rob, who was struggling to breathe and stand.

Jack pulled out the switch blade that he'd wrestled from Joey.

"Drop the knife, now!" someone said.

A light glared in their eyes.

Standing near the stairs was a policeman and an old lady in jeans and a sweat shirt.

Jack dropped the knife.

"What the hell is that?" asked the cop.

"It's a ghost, dummy," said the woman. "Hello, Emmett."

The ghost wailed.

"You know him?" asked Bruce.

"He's my brother.
Rose Langley
Chapter 9

"Officer, I saw the whole thing," said the old lady. "The ones you want are the big one, and the one with the long hair. Where's the third one?" she asked of them.

"I think he ran off," said Tatia.

"Alright, I got better things to do, so let's get this over with," said the cop.

He put cuffs on Joey and Rob.

"You guys need to leave. This house is condemned; it's not safe."

~~~

Fifteen minutes later, they watched the officer drive off with Rob and Joey in the back. Nick had completely disappeared.

"Who are you?" asked Tatia.

"I'm Rose Langley, Emmett's sister."

"Thanks for sticking up for us, but how did you know Joey and Rob were the ones who needed to be arrested?" asked Jack.

"I saw the whole thing go down on the little webcam I installed weeks ago."

"You were watching us?" Bruce blurted.

"Well, not at first. Originally, I installed it so that I could see Langley. I'm surprised you never noticed it actually; the webcam was right there on the mantle."

"Are you the one who was watching me, from the window?"

"Yes, that was me. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Why did you never kick us out?" asked Jack.

"Because I wanted to see what Langley would do," she laughed and smiled. "As he got older, he was quite temperamental. He didn't like kids much. I thought he'd scare you off, eventually. Instead, he took a liking to you, I think."

"Is the house really condemned?"

"Well, it's quite cold. Why don't you come to my house and we'll talk about it over breakfast."

They walked two blocks over and took a right. She led them to a tall white house with a green roof.

Once inside, Rose talked nonstop about Emmett as she made pancakes and sausages.

"Langley was a good kid. Our father didn't think so. You see, he wanted Emmett to be a doctor.

Emmett did as Father wished until music changed his life. Back then, music had such a transformation that many men forsook their responsibilities, in search of some obscure idealism, like freedom and living for the moment."

She set a large stack of pancakes in the center of the table.

"Tatia and Mira, will you bring out the dishes."

Rose put the frying pan in the sink. She walked to the living room and came back with a photo in her hand.

"This was him back in the seventies. He was about twenty there."

There, in the same leather hat, stood Langley with a large smile.

"When did he die?" asked Bruce.

"About ten years ago. I got a call from the gardener, telling me to come over to the house. There he was, in his chair with a drink in his hand. He'd choked on a garnish."

"Maybe that's why all the black stuff is in his mouth; it's a symbol of the way he died," said Mira.

"What about his daughter?" asked Tatia.

"Who?"

"The baby in the pretty locket."

"An old cousin. She's gone, now, too. Not many of us, Langley's, left."

"What do you think is gonna happen to him, once they tear down the house?" asked Bruce, sounding concerned.

"I don't know; that's why I've hired a medium. She'll be here, today, to help him move forward."

"We don't want him to go. Can't you just fix up the house?" asked Tatia.

"I can't afford it. We used to be wealthy but no so much anymore. All I have is my retirement check, and I'm going to go live with my kids."

Meeting Emmett
Chapter 10

When the clock said 2:45 pm, Rose and the kids walked back to Emmett's house.

They waited out front for the medium to arrive.

A white sedan pulled up fifteen minutes later. A middle aged woman with purple scarf around her neck emerged.

"Hi, I'm Maggie." She extended her hand.

"I'm Rose," she said, and introduced the kids.

After Maggie got a bag from her trunk, Rose led her up to the front door. She pulled out a key and opened the door.

All was still; the lights flickered a bit.

"Let's take it back to the parlor; that was Emmett's favorite place," said Rose.

Maggie followed Rose to the back room, humming and looking around with her large blue eyes.

"Let's push the couch back and sit on the floor, in a circle."

After they moved the couch, Maggie pulled a large black sheet with an enormous pentacle spray painted on it, from her bag.

She set it on the floor.

Next, she pulled out 13 candles, set them in a circle, in the center of the sheet and lit them.

"I can feel Emmett in the room. Contacting him will be easy. He's used to appearing in the physical world," she paused a moment.

"Let's hold hands," she said, as she sat on the sheet, "and call Emmett into our circle, using our minds only.

Once he appears, he cannot leave until we let him. Whatever you do, don't let go of each other's hands. If you do, you'll break the connection, and set him free, again. If that should happen, then we'll have to call him again. Only, he may ignore our calls, next time."

They sat in silence, holding hands, calling Emmet for nearly an hour.

"Why is it taking so long?" asked Tatia.

"Because breaking the veil, as they call it, takes a lot of energy. Ghosts need rest in between visits to the Earthly plane."

Some more time passed when Maggie asked, "Emmett? Are you with us? Come into our circle."

When nothing happened, she said, "He's resisting. He knows why I'm here, and he doesn't want to go. Talk to him, Rose."

"Emmett," said Rose. "Listen, the house has been condemned. It's going to be destroyed, and I'm too old and broke to do anything about it. You need to move on."

He appeared in the circle.

The lights flickered.

"Emmett," said Maggie. "If you do not leave this house, it will be destroyed, and your spirit could die with it."

"Why do you remain in this house?" asked Rose.

The ghost merely looked at his sister.

"He's speaking to me," said Maggie. "I hear his otherworldly voice. He says he doesn't deserve to be happy; that he let his father down. Do you know what that means?"

"Emmett, no one blames you for not being here when Father died. I know you feel guilt for things that happened between you two, but it's time for you to face him. Father loved you, Emmett, and he'll be waiting for you on the other side."

"He's asking me about what's on the other side – Emmet, I can't answer that. But I promise you that the place is a happy one. You have to have the courage to move on."

A light wailing entered the room.

"He wants me to thank you for bringing him joy, the last few weeks. You made him feel alive, again. He's glad you got your guitar back."

"Thanks, Langley," said Jack.

"Okay, kids, say good bye to Emmett, now. I'm gonna lead him to the light."

"Bye Emmett," said Tatia and Mira.

"Thanks for being there for us," said Jack.

"Say hi to my grandmother for me," said Bruce.

"Bye, Emmett. I love you, and I'll see you soon," added Rose through tears.

"Langley, I want you to close your eyes and relax your spiritual mind. When you've done so, you should feel warmth, almost as if it's entwined with everything around you. Focus on that warm feeling. It will feel like its smothering you."

After a moment, she added, "Yes, that's it, that's the other side. Follow the warmth; focus on that place."

Suddenly, a rush of air moved around the room.

Langley disappeared, leaving behind a white cloud that hung in the air.

~~~

They stood out on the sidewalk, waving goodbye to the medium.

"Well, I must be going, too," Rose turned and said to them.

"Now, my house hasn't been sold. I'm not due to leave for a couple of hours, but, I'll tell you what, I'll leave the key for you, under the mat."

She gave them each a hug.

"Thanks for making Emmett happy, the last couple of weeks. I'll never forget the looks on your faces, that first night when you arrived."

Rose pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and patted her eyes.

She pulled Tatia into a tight embrace, again, and slipped something into her pocket.

"Don't check your pocket until I'm gone."

"What?" Tatia asked.

"Thanks, Rose," said Jack and Bruce.

"Bye," said Mira.

They watched her walk down the street, and make a right, heading to her house.

"Well, what now?" asked Mira, leaning on Jack for support.

"I think we should start a band," said Jack.

"Come on," said Tatia. "Let's get some burgers."

Tatia and Bruce crossed the street. Jack and Mira followed closely.

"What did Rose give you?" asked Bruce.

"I don't know."

She felt in her pocket and pulled out the locket.
More about the author:

Jamie Ott is passionate about the fantasy genre of young adult literature. Most famously, she's known for her large collection of short stories and novellas.

For the person needing a quick adventure, she's been hailed as an accomplished provider.

Other popular short works by the author:

Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer: Red Skies, Blue Skies

Funk's the Chocolate Loving Vamp

Vampin Vampire Series – Now available in box sets

Due out 2012

Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer: The Dawn

Down the Shrinking Hole

Black Fleet

Vampin Book Series #9

By Jamie Ott
Copyright   2012 Jamie Ott. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission.

ISBN-13: 978-1467970023

ISBN-10: 1467987023

For all inquiries, please contact ladysonoma@americamail.com
Awake or Dreaming
Chapter 1

Her bed was extremely hard and cold.

_Time for a new mattress,_ she thought.

Starr reached around for her blanket, but only felt the surface of something smooth and hard.

She opened her eyes and propped up on her elbows. Through narrowed eyes, she looked for her blanket, but, instead, saw that she wasn't even in bed; she was lying on a cold black table.

Thinking she was dreaming, she rubbed her eyes, roughly. When she reopened them, panic enveloped her.

She looked around the room, but nothing looked familiar.

Except for a single set of red velvet curtains, the room was plain; the walls were bare and white, and the wood floor was dusty.

Then she noticed that the thick ray of moonlight that beamed across the room, from between an opening in the curtains, was disrupted by something at the foot of the table.

Propping herself up higher on her elbows, she noticed it looked like an altar.

The moonlight was snuffed out, for a few seconds, leaving Starr in complete darkness.

Carefully, she got off the table and walked to the window. She pulled back the curtains, looked out, and saw that a small hive of bats had just passed, and were flying off for a night hunt.

Looking down, she saw she was on the second story of an unfamiliar stone house. There were a couple acres of mown lawn. A mile or two out was a drop off that was barely visible through a large mass of fog rising upward.

She turned back to the dark room.

Using her power of remote viewing, a form of extra sensory perception, she sensed the rest of the house to see if anyone else was there, but there was not.

Starr turned her attention to the altar.

On it, laid a few burned down candles, a bowl of salt, a dagger and a silver goblet with a rosary draped across it.

Starr noticed a charred smoke smell, about the place. Looking down, she realized the smell came from her, as her pajamas were ripped, stained, and ashy.

A painful twinge shot down her neck, making her whole body jump.

She rubbed her neck and made to get a closer look at the items.

Immediately, she took interest in a black leather book that lay in the center of them all.

On the front, etched in gold letters, were the words Necro-Grimoire.

Although the pages were written in Latin, Starr could tell that it was a very special book. The Grimoire's paper was heavier than books of today, and the edges of it were really rough, almost as if they'd been cut.

Judging by the smell that came from the book, it was old, too.

Starr didn't know, exactly, what a Necro-Grimoire was, though she'd heard similar words in movies. If she were still alive, her pulse would have quickened; not only was she somewhere she didn't remember coming to, but to find such items so close to her, upon waking, scared her.

She put the book in her pajama pants pocket and made to leave the room.

Whoever brought her there must not have realized that simple locks couldn't keep her in.

Gently, she applied more pressure to turning the doorknob, breaking the lock easily.

Even though she sensed that she was alone, there was always the possibility that someone was masking their thoughts or their scent.

Slowly, she poked her head out of the door.

The hall was large and empty of any decorations as well: no tables, chairs, pictures, or anything, just dust.

Quietly, she made her way down the dark stairwell.

The bottom floor of the house was just as empty of furniture, or any personal touches, as was the upstairs.

When she stepped onto the bottom landing, she was instantly distracted by the moon, which appeared so large and white through the living room's glass door that it looked as if it were sitting on the grass.

Momentarily entranced, she walked across the Spanish tile floors, and slid back the glass door, breaking the little metal latch, absentmindedly.

The sky was blackish, and the fog felt moist and fresh on her skin. She walked across the grass to the drop off, and then peered down into the houses on the lower incline of the hill.

She heard thoughts, like little whispers in her ears, coming from below.

In one grey stone dwelling, two people argued as they got ready for bed. On the other side of town, a couple made love as their teenage daughter climbed out of a window.

Many miles to her right, several bored teenagers horsed around, in a marsh, drinking booze they'd stolen from their parents: two of them weren't wearing shoes, for some reason.

Starr could smell their blood all the way from where she stood.

One of them went to urinate in the marshy water of the river.

She sensed the animal, lurking, even before it stirred the surface of the water; it was hungry and knew it needed to put the colorless beast down, fast, or he'd get away.

It leapt out with lizard-like reflexes, scaring the kid into a backwards stumble onto the muddy ground. The alligator waddled on top of the kid, quickly.

Hearing him scream, the others ran, from out of the trees, to help.

Suddenly, she wanted to be there; not so much to help the guy, but to see the animal whose hunger she could feel. Never had she had such a connection with an animal before.

How was she to get there? She was so far away?

But, then, almost as if her inner demon were answering her, she levitated.

From below, she could hear the teens shouting. She commanded her body to go, fast.

And she did, fast like the wind she flew down to the spot where the largest, of them, was attempting a back grip on the alligator. One of the other kids held a shotgun, pointed at the animal's head, and screamed at his buddy, telling him to try to get out from under it so he could shoot.

Her feet touched down amongst the clump of trees to their right, but they were too busy to notice.

She walked out, pushed the large kid away, and yanked the alligator off by the tail.

The alligator was angered, and it looked at Starr with complete ferocity. She could feel the animal's surprise; it felt hunger, fear and rage all at once. It wanted to rip, tear and kill her, right there on the spot.

Uncontrollably, a growl issued from her throat, as is what happens, sometimes, when in danger: a vampire's demon, within, would take over, and there was no stopping it.

She felt her fangs protrude, and they reached down to their full length, lightly touching her lower gums.

The alligator looked like it wanted to charge her, but it was entranced by her eyes.

Starr felt her power over the animal, and it excited her.

_Go back to the water,_ she commanded, into its mind.

The alligator obeyed.

Fascinated, she watched it walk backwards into the water, and sink below the surface.

As she watched, it occurred to her that something was seriously wrong, for she'd never done any of the things she'd just done, before.

Yes, she was a strong vampire, but she was young; less than two years old. For most, it took at least a century for new fledglings to grow into all their new powers.

Until her waking, a few moments ago, she'd never been able fly, talk to animals, or sense people from miles away. Combine these things with the fact that she had no recollection of how or where she was, and the situation didn't look good.

Starr needed answers right away, but she had the strangest feeling she needed to be somewhere, at the moment.

Her neck twinged again, distracting her from her thoughts.

"How in the hell did you do that?" asked one of the young men, in a terribly thick southern accent.

But when she turned, he screamed and ran off, shouting, "Demon! Courir!"

They ran as quickly as they could.

Starr just stared at the backs of them.

Judging by the man's accent, and use of the word courir, she must be in Louisiana, somewhere, but why and how?

She sat on the bank and watched the water, trying to remember anything.

The alligator poked its head out of the water. Its large yellow eyes watched her, curiously.

The last thing she remembered was saying goodbye to her parents, but that had to have been a few days ago.

Slowly, the alligator walked up the bank of the marsh, and then lay down in front of her, watching her with its mouth partly opened.

Then she heard someone rustling in the trees, and the cocking of a rifle.

Superstitious swamp folk had banded together, and were coming to kill her; another strange thing, for Starr was not, normally, a telepath.

_Go_ , she said into the alligator's mind.

It slithered back down the bank, and sank under the water.

She stood up and moved into the trees, away from the clearing.

Hearing the small mob's thoughts, she realized they thought she was one from the new vampire species; the ones that were more like rabid dogs, rather than supernatural humans.

"Stop," she yelled through the trees. "I'm not like them."

An old man shouted, in French, "Diable," and shot aimlessly in her direction.

Starr could have stopped him, but she decided to walk on down the river bank.

~~~

She didn't make it to another town until sunup. Yes, she could have flown, but she didn't know where she wanted or needed to be. Walking was just something to do, for the moment, while she tried to figure it all out.

The town was a dusty old place where the people all wore dirty overalls. Many of them appeared to have never learned about teeth brushing while others didn't care for shoes.

She must have been a sight to see, too, for they stared, hard, at her.

Still unsure of what to do, she continued until she reached the other end of town, where she sat on a dusty bench and watched the river ripples.

A dirty blue truck caught her attention as it blew up dust and rattled its way to a red wooden restaurant some hundred feet to her right.

The sun reflected off a silver metal box, next to the entrance door: it was a pay phone.

Eagerly, she went to make a phone call, but as she lifted the hand piece, she realized she didn't know any numbers; she always relied on her cell phone for that. Whenever she got new ones, she'd enter the numbers into her memory card and never think of them again.

_Damn!_ she cursed.

She looked at the phone's address which was printed beneath a piece of plastic above the numbers; it said Red River, LA.

Just then, the door to the restaurant opened, and out came a man with a cigarette in his hand.

"You gonna use the phone?" asked the man.

Starr shook her head and moved aside.

Coming from the restaurant, the whispering and thoughts of so many people was a bear. More than anything, she wished she could silence them.

When the man sparked a match, the fire caught Starr's eye, for some reason.

She stared at the little orange flame, feeling, again, like she needed to be somewhere, and then like water breaking down a dam, memories flooded her mind.

"Oh my!" she gasped, and sank to her knees.

She was talking to Bielz when the landing, they stood on, collapsed, and they were buried under the crumbling fiery cabin.

Covered in rubble, and her neck reinjured, she couldn't move. She thought she was going to die, but was rescued by Credenza, who was the leader of a world vampire police organization. Flying into the night was the last lucid thing she remembered.

She felt another twinge in her neck which she rubbed. Lucenzo beheaded her, a few weeks ago, and, up until being rescued by Credenza, she was in recovery, and had only begun to move on her own, when the fire had been set.

Credenza must have done something to heal her. But, what? And why bring her to Louisiana?

_Oh well,_ she said to herself.

It didn't matter because she needed to find the others and make sure they were okay. Anything else would just have to wait.

With that thought, she took off into the air to find them.
Next Door Over
Chapter 2

Flying long distance was something that took a little getting used to. Direction, while in the air, was hard to grasp.

Somehow, animals always knew which way they wanted to go though.

Using the idea that she was, now, more animal than human, she told herself, repeatedly, that she wanted to go northeast, back to the cabin's sight, and back to the kids. Although she landed in the wrong state, twice, it worked, for she made it onto the bank of Lake George, in New York, by the time the first stars, in the sky, began to shine.

Evidence of the fire was still present. The sky had a nasty brown tinge, and the setting sun looked bright cherry red through it.

Then she noticed, as she looked around, that the cabin wasn't the only thing affected by the fire, but so was the entire side of the bank.

For nearly ¼ of a mile, from where she stood, all the trees on the upper part of the bank were burnt up. On the lower half of the bank, the trees that hadn't been burned were black and charred, and all their leaves lay in piles of ash at their bases.

Another thing that seemed to have improved, since she woke in Louisiana, was her sight. As she looked through a barrage of charred trees, a mile down, she saw that another cabin had been burned to the ground; the only thing left was its cement foundation.

She went to the pile of blackened junk that was, once, the cabin where she and the homeless kids, from the clinic, stayed.

Starr kicked up the dirt and rubble, wondering if her beloved ruby studded sickles had survived the fire, or even the sterling silver and nickel nunchucks Antony had given her, before he vamped out, forcing her to rip off his head.

As she kicked up the rubble, she stopped over a particular spot of ash.

She could smell her there; the one who set the fire. Bielz died on that spot. A smoldered scent of flesh, burnt to a crisp, still resonated on the blackened bits of wood and debris.

Distracting her from her thoughts came whispering from further along the bank.

Listening intently, she tried to hear if it were the kids.

The trees rustled, violently, from many yards away. There were many of them coming: the new species of vampires, and they were hungry.

Quickly, she looked for something to behead them with. She dug through the rubble, and tossed random chunks of material aside, hoping to find one of the machetes they always kept by the side of the house, but there was nothing.

It was too late; they were nearing.

Her inner demon wasted no time; her fangs drew, and she felt her skin grow warm, and her night time vision became even clearer.

Quickly, she ran up to the first vampire and gave it a jumping front kick to the face, sending his head spinning, flying over the trees.

For a split second, she stood stock still, in surprise. The kick, and separation of the vamp's head, seemed too easy; almost like punting a football, there was little resistance. In that moment, she realized that, not only had she acquired new powers, but that her strength had greatly increased.

Two vamps came at her, from behind, but she didn't turn, like she normally would have, for she could hear and calculate their movements.

Together, they put their hands on her shoulders, and opened their mouths to bite her neck.

Starr reached up and, like inserting her fingers into a bowling ball, grasped them by their heads, digging her nails into their craniums, feeling the bone break inward, and the softer flesh within; she yanked their heads off their bodies.

Four more vampires came at her.

In the stance of a perfect port de bras doing a flat footed pirouette, she made a 360 degree turn, using the heads to bat off the skulls of the first two oncoming vampires.

She smirked as she looked down and saw how the skin had nearly, entirely, been ripped away from the skulls: her hand was the only thing keeping the heads together.

Before, it would have taken a lot of work for her to kill that many vampires, but now it was so easy.

There were still two more left.

She dropped the bloody skulls on the ground.

One thing she'd always wanted to try, on someone, was a flying kick. Combined with her new power, she expected it to be quite fun.

Starr readied herself in a straight stance, a second, then ran and leapt into the air with her leg at an angle, flying her foot into its head, spattering blood everywhere, and all over her pajamas.

"Yuck!" she said aloud, and told herself she'd never do that again.

Then, suddenly, the last vampire, a big fat beast of about six and a half feet came at her. His body was the shape of a whale, he was unusually strong, and his hands were huge.

When he grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her toward him, fury and rage boiled in her. She pushed up his wrists, stood back and made to strike, but she merely side kicked her foot into flame.

The vampire screamed and fell to the ground as his body combusted.

It took a moment for her to realize what she'd done.

The only people she knew who could set fire through kinesis, alone, were Credenza and a vampire who worked for her, Alin.

_What could all these new abilities mean?_ she wondered.

Did Credenza, somehow, transfer powers to her?

Did it mean she was in Credenza's debt? If so, she would have a fight on her hands, because one thing Starr had said, over and over, was that she wanted to be left alone.

Someone called her name, from the trees higher up on the bank: it was Lily.

Lily had been bitten, weeks ago, by the new species of vampire. After, she immediately turned into a mindless organ eating, blood drinker, like the others, but, with the help of Lucenzo – the one responsible for the viral outbreak that turned thousands of people into the raging monsters – she had managed to hold onto her humanity.

"What are you doing here?" Starr asked surprised.

"We never left," she replied. "How did you do that?"

"Set him on fire? I'm not exactly sure," Starr said, as she took a couple of steps towards her.

Lily stepped back with a look of fright in her eyes.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Starr asked, feeling a little surprised by her instinct to retreat.

"You're," she paused, "different."

"So are you," said Starr, taking in her appearance.

It was almost as if she'd never been bit. Not only was the sickening pheromone smell gone - a cinnamon-like scent the new vampires had - , but her eyes were no longer dilated and her skin was rosy, instead of waxy white.

"Well, I should go," she turned.

"Wait," Starr said, and walked up to stop her.

Unaware of her increase in natural speed, such as walking, she appeared in front of Lily, with her hand on her shoulder, within a second.

Lily gasped and asked, "How did you move so quickly?"

"I...," she trailed off, wondering what she should say. After a moment, she repeated, "don't know."

Starr couldn't help but be amazed at her healthy appearance. Before, she was constantly drooling with a zoned out look on her face, like a zombie from a movie.

"Are you infected, still?"

"Yes, but the virus doesn't have as strong of a hold on me anymore."

"Is Lucenzo still treating you?"

"Yeah," she drawled, and her voiced quavered.

Ignoring her discomfort, she asked, "Where is he?"

"I won't tell you. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even be here, right now. I can't let you hurt him, because that would be hurting me."

Starr just watched her. She didn't know what to say.

"I don't want to hurt..."

"I gotta go," Lily interrupted.

Starr watched her walk into the trees.

When she'd made it, approximately, ten yards away, Starr went in after her.

When Lily turned her head backwards, at the sound of a crunching leaf, Starr levitated and continued after her.

She followed her further up the bank to a large three story cabin some miles out. Heavily surrounded by trees, it stood in the nook of a rock hill, next to a large red barn.

Starr watched Lily walk up the three wood steps, across the porch and through the front door. She was about to follow her inside, but, then, she felt an insatiable hunger for blood coming from the barn next to the cabin.

Quickly, she probed it with her mind.

What she saw filled her with fear and anger.

Inside there were a dozen or more naked vampires. Clearly, Lucenzo had experimented on them, as some were missing arms and legs – it was easy to see that they'd been neatly cut off - , and others had needle marks on their skin and faces. They lay on top of each other, like stacked books, with eyes open, thinking and dreaming of blood.

There were several rows of the vampires piled in stacks of ten.

_How did he get them to behave like that?_ she wondered.

Feeling like she could throw up, even though she weren't alive, she turned her focus to the house.

Lucenzo had cooked dinner, and Lily sat at the table and proceeded to tell him that she saw Starr.

_Well, you might as well come in,_ Lucenzo whispered telepathically into her mind.

She would have liked to have gone in... gone in and killed him for beheading her, but it was only for Lily that she didn't.

The cabin had enormous ceilings that rose up into the third floor, and the kitchen and living room were one large space. There were cozy looking couches and a large screen television in the living room section. Behind them was a counter, around which Lucenzo and Lily sat with a casserole dish in their midst, and table settings in front of them.

"I'm glad to see you are better," he said, as he stood up to give her a kiss on the cheek.

She side stepped around him, and sat at the empty chair.

"Well," he said, surprised by her speed, "You've healed fast. Normally, a beheading, if reattached immediately, can take months and months," he said happily.

To hear him speak of nearly killing her as though he'd only stepped on her foot made her livid.

"What kind of sick things are you doing to the vampires in the barn?" she asked, trying to repress her anger.

"Well, I'm using them to create vaccines," he said vibrantly, as he went to the cabinet, picked up a plate, and sat back down.

"You're making a vaccine to help those you've infected?"

He pulled the casserole over to himself, and piled some onto the plate, and then set it in front of Starr.

Lily remained silent and looked from Lucenzo to Starr, repeatedly.

"We can't possibly save everyone, Starr."

"You realize the Fleet has gone on a mass mission to exterminate all the vampires?"

"Well, they shall not succeed," he smirked, and looked straight at her with his crystal blue eyes.

Starr picked up the fork he set in front of her, and contemplated her chances of killing him with it. Feeling him watching her, she made to take a bite in an attempt to mask her thoughts, but paused and asked, "Why did you release the virus?"

"For the same reason as before: to change the world."

"Before..." said Starr thoughtfully, remembering back to her time with Chanler in the Transcarpathian Mountains. He mentioned that it was _one_ person who was responsible for all the vampire outbreaks in the last thirty years, but that they always failed to track him down.

Lucenzo pushed his long red hair back, and took a bite of his casserole.

"Lily, Sweetie, eat," he said.

Starr continued to watch him, and then he said, "I did it so we don't have to live in the shadows; so we don't have to hide anymore; so we can start a new world. Just think of all the things we, vampires, could do: eliminate the need for government, no more hungry people, even homelessness would no longer be an issue. If we could turn the brilliant minds of today, and have them always, we could have some major technological advancement, even space travel would be more attainable. I want to see man progress faster. Perhaps man could never survive the atmosphere of Mars, but just maybe a vampire could."

Starr didn't know what to say. His argument seemed fascinating to her, but she still thought his actions were wrong.

After a moment of silence, she asked, "Where are your friends? Nico, Kris, and Mick? Have they been working with you all along?"

"They're fine," he said, as he took another bite of casserole.

"And your brother, Fernand?"

"Fine," he repeated.

"Where's Amir?"

Amir was the vampire in league with Lucenzo.

He set down his fork and sighed, loudly.

"These questions are pointless. I'm not going to tell you anything," he said. "Lily's missed you, so why not eat and let's talk like we used to."

"After what you did to me, I cannot," she said angrily, as she stood up to leave. "The only reason we don't fight is for Lily's sake."

She left the cabin, and walked down the steps.

Then, as she walked into the trees, she got a familiar tickle in her ear. She rubbed it but it turned into a buzzing.

A moment later, she was down on her knees. Starr was getting a vision: Chanler was in a room, calling for her.

Next thing she knew, she was flying through the air. She didn't know where she was going, but her inner demon seemed to know that she needed to reach Chanler.
War Time
Chapter 3

She landed on a grass field, before a clean and narrow street. Across from where she stood was a row of cement buildings, with thick bullet proof glass panes that went on for a couple of miles.

Starr scanned their insides, trying to see if anyone were in them. At the furthest end to her left, she heard a discussion taking place.

Looking in, she saw a dim lit room where a dozen men in suits sat at a table discussing. Some of the Fleet members were there, listening.

The Fleet was an organization of enforcers, put together by Credenza to make vampires oblige human law, and, when they didn't, see to their extermination.

She walked the mile or so to the furthest end of the drive. When she approached the large glass door, she leaned her head against the glass and looked in.

Inside, there was an empty check-in counter and a door right behind it; to her left, a set of doors; to her right, two elevators.

She pressed the bar of the door and found that it was locked. Gently, she applied more pressure, but it didn't respond.

Annoyed, Starr looked down at the metal panel with the green flashing light, below the bar. Using her mind, she looked inside the metal and focused her kinesis on burning out the wired board inside.

After a moment, it hissed and sparked, and the light went out, but the door still wouldn't open.

She stood back and braced herself, and then, using all her strength, she kicked in the door, breaking the bullet proof glass into several parts, sending a large chunk of it flying back, and tripping an alarm.

Lights blinded her eyes with flashing red and white as a most annoying siren raided her ears, making her recoil.

Although her ears and eyes had increased in strength, it seemed they had become more sensitive, too.

Pressing her hands onto the sides of her head, she forced open her eyes and saw two military men with rifles come from a door behind the desk.

They came at her, shouting for her to get on the ground. Starr knew she should have complied, but didn't like the guys waiving guns in her face, and trying to be tough with her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm here to see the Black Fleet, from the Council."

"I'll shoot you, Miss," said the man to her right.

Quickly, Starr grabbed his gun and broke it in half, and then threw it on the ground.

The man next to him shot, but Starr's reflexes really had grown, for she saw the bullet come at her, out of the corner of her eye.

She moved her head to the side, grabbed the gun by the barrel, and pushed it back, whacking him in the face with the butt.

The man fell flat onto the ground.

Starr heard the footfalls of other soldiers, coming from behind the door.

Quickly, she went through one of the doors to her left, and found herself in a stairwell. She followed the scent of the Fleet members up to the seventh floor.

Once she exited the stairwell, another alarm went off.

Starr ignored it and continued right, down the hall, turned the corner, and found herself facing the remaining members of the Fleet: Chanler, Alin, Sari, James, Emil and, their pilot, Saul.

With them were about a dozen men in suits.

"Nice job," said Alin sarcastically. "You could have just knocked."

Men flooded the floor from the elevators and the stairwell.

"It's okay," said Chanler. "This is Starr; the one we were telling you about. She can help us."

The military men looked at the men in suits who nodded to them, indicating that they could leave.

The Fleet members looked her up and down, taking in her appearance.

They walked up to her.

"What, in the hell, happened to you?" asked Emil, with a little smile in his eyes.

"I was in a fire."

"So you just came straight here?" asked Alin.

"No, Alin, it's a long story. I don't want to get into details right now."

"What have you been doing?" he asked more accusingly.

Alin was always a sharp tongued serpent with a cut throat attitude.

"What do you mean?" she said, knowing that he was onto her.

"You seem different."

She said nothing.

"Why are you in your pajamas?" asked Chanler.

"Hello? Did I not say that I was in a fire? The cabin burned down!"

"Isn't there something we can do, Bob?" he turned and asked a man in a white shirt and tie.

"There are spare clothes, downstairs, in the military supplies room."

"I'll take you," said Alin. "They won't know you, and we need to talk."

He motioned that she follow him. They walked back to the stairwell, and he held the door open for her to enter.

"How did the cabin catch fire?"

"Uh... well, remember Bielz?" she asked as she looked down the stairwell.

"Yeah."

"Well, she kind of had it in for me. I killed a friend of hers; he had a habit of vamping out."

"His name was Antony; I heard about him."

"Yeah, well, Bielz was angry about it and set the cabin on fire to get back at me."

"Where are the kids? Are they okay?"

"I don't know," she said, looking down as they stepped. "I got them out of the house, alright, but then Bielz was still there. She refused to leave, though I tried to talk her out of it. It's almost as if she wanted to die, and I don't understand why; things weren't that bad for her. I wanted to save her, and I could have, but then the landing collapsed, reinjuring my neck and I couldn't move."

"Who did it?"

"I told you, Bielz did it."

"Not who set the fire, but who healed you? You're prancing about as though you've never had your head cut off, which is an injury that you should still be recovering from. I know someone healed you, and that is a big deal. Who was it?" he asked, turning his face toward her.

She was sure that Alin was trustworthy, but Starr couldn't help but feel that, at the moment, she should keep her mouth shut.

As they reached the last step, she said, as she looked back at him, "Look, Alin, I don't want to be rude but, for the moment, I think I'd rather not talk about what happened to me."

"Starr, there is a reason that I asked. When you're healed by another of our kind, you become bound to that person by a supernatural rope, if you will, bound by blood forever."

"What does that mean?" she asked in a small voice.

"It means that you can see into each other's minds, and when one of you hurts, or is in danger, you can sense the other's urgency; you can even sense happiness at times. The person who heals you will always be able to find you, and you, them. Like following a trail ablaze, your blood will stand out against the world to that person."

As he spoke these words, her forehead became extremely warm; suddenly, it felt like an invisible rope were around her neck, and getting tighter and tighter.

Alin walked through the door, and held it open for her.

Credenza healed her on purpose, and she knew it had nothing to do with wanting to save her. It was her way of keeping tabs on her.

He led her into a dark grey hall, to a door with a broken padlock. Next to the door was a desk, behind which sat a soldier.

Alin nodded to the man, and they walked past him, through the door. Inside was a large closet, in which there were guns and ammo, and other gear in the front.

Further to the back, there were military clothes, with the familiar U.S. Army camouflage brownish-green. Starr picked out a pair of the sturdy cotton pants, a white shirt, socks and shoes.

After, Alin led her to the showers, on the opposite end of the hall, and told her to meet him on the seventh floor when she was done.

The lady's shower and locker room was just as dreary as the rest of the building. It had plain grey walls with no decorations.

She walked over to a bench and undressed. Then she pulled the Necro-Grimoire from her pajama pocket and carefully stuffed it in the cargo pocket of the army pants.

Never, in her life, had she enjoyed the feel of hot water on her skin. Her kind didn't sweat anymore, but their skin could get clammy, as dew and other environmental factors settled into their skin. At the moment, it was the smell of char that clung to her pores.

After she was refreshed, she dropped her pajamas in the trash and took the stairs back up to the seventh floor. She made her way to the room in which the Fleet members were working with three of the men in suits. Together, they looked down at maps, and picked out the routes they'd take to each state capitol, and rid them of vampires.

Starr stood at the door, a moment, and, silently, watched them.

Listening to and watching the man Chanler called Bob, it was easy to tell that it was no pleasure for him to be in their company. The corners of his mouth were forced into a downturn, and his eyes were expressionless. His scent was something foul, a clear sign that he was beyond hating them, but loathed them.

Starr moved to the seat closest to the door; Bob flinched as she sat.

A look of surprise appeared on all their faces.

"How did you do that?" asked Chanler.

"Do what?"

"Nevermind," Alin cut in. He looked, knowingly, at Starr, and then turned back to Bob and the other men.

After a few more words, Alin said, "So, Starr," in his light Romanian accent. "There is no time to go into major details, so here's what's happening: We're gonna start our cleanup efforts in D.C. It is important to secure the capitol, before Lucenzo and Amir release a new batch of virus, or organize their vampires to attack."

When she said nothing, he continued, "Now we're just gonna go through and kill all the vamps, and then the military is gonna come through and take over. We'll move on to New York City, where the immediate concern is securing the United Nations."

Chanler added, "After we've secured the Nation's Capitol and the U.N., we're gonna split up: me, Michelle, and James will visit the governors, in their states, and lend a hand where we're needed; you, Alin, Emil, and Saul will hunt down Lucenzo and kill him, as we're pretty sure he's still on the East Coast somewhere. This way, you'll be close to home, you can find Lily, and, after he's dead, you can take her back to the clinic with you, if you should decide not to kill her, that is. After, Emil and Alin will continue on, with Saul, to Romania, where they'll hunt down Amir and his followers."

"And you're welcome to come, of course," said Emil sounding hopeful.

Starr flushed with a combination of frustration and guilt.

"Why do you need me to hunt down Lucenzo? I'd rather go home, if I may."

"Lucenzo shares the blood of an elder, so he's strong. We need our strongest people on him," Alin answered.

He must have seen the heat she felt in her face, for he asked, "Is something wrong, Starr?"

"No," she said, pursing her lips as she looked sideways and shook her head.

"I've finished, downstairs," came a familiar voice.

She turned her head and saw the unmistakable round face of the short tempered Michelle.

"It's getting late; I need to eat," Bob said, and his cohorts, whose names she didn't catch, murmured in agreement.

Alin, who seemed unable to stop watching her, asked "Starr, how about I show you where we're sleeping tonight?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, he motioned with his hand for her to follow him.

Feeling a familiar burning sensation, in her stomach and esophagus, at the sight of Michelle whispering into Chanler's ear, she stood up and followed.

"How long have you, all, been here?"

"Not long," Alin replied. "After we left Lake George, we returned to Boston."

"Why?"

"To search Lucenzo's house again, and then his office. Ever since we heard he'd been treating Lily, we've tried to track down any information on the antidote he's been giving her."

"Did you find anything?" she asked, hoping that Lily would be okay if Lucenzo died.

"No."

"Why do we always take the stairs?" she asked, as he held the door open for her.

"If power should die, then we could be trapped inside. Vampire strength or no, it could be a real hassled getting out of there. "

They made it up several flights and exited the stairwell when Starr had a sudden clouding of vision: a feeling of sudden happiness overwhelmed her, making her feel heady.

"Are you okay?"

It took a moment for her vision to clear. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said.

One thing Starr hated about many vampires, like Alin, was a good number of them grew into telepathic abilities. She had yet to meet one as intrusive as her best friend, Shane, but it was still aggravating.

Although she had fits of telepathy, here and there, it was likely that Starr would never grow into abilities like theirs, and, for that, she was thankful. She was glad to be a poor telepath, but, unfortunately, that meant she was also poor at blocking mental intrusion.

"The flashes are sometimes symptoms of the blood you share with another; you're feeling her emotion. Don't worry," he said. "You will get used to it, and learn to shut them out. The first time is always a surprise."

She did a double take and stopped.

"Yes, I know, it was Credenza," he paused too. "Given her protectiveness over you, it's not hard to figure out who would have saved you. Plus, your reluctance to speak of it also gave it away, for if you were to admit, then it would be like admitting you're indebted to her. You only want to return to a normal teenage life, not be indebted to an ancient vampire."

"How do you know about sharing blood?" she asked, wanting to change the conversation. "Were you ever healed?"

"Once, by my brother, but he is dead now."

They exited the stairwell and walked through a brightly lit hall to a room at the end.

"We're all in our own rooms," he said. "Here is how you set the lock."

He opened the door and held in the zero button, of the number panel below the door handle, until the light blinked red several times.

"Okay, punch in your code."

Inside was a basic cement room that looked like a jail cell, with a silver sink and tiny bed that was bolted to the wall.

Tired of the leather book swinging about, in her pocket, Starr pulled it out and tossed it on the bed.

"What was that?"

Alin walked up to the bed and picked it up.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, pushing his eyebrows even closer together than usual.

When she said nothing, he added, "It looks very old. I can smell age coming from the pages, though the leather binding is not quite as old as the interior: someone had it rebound."

"Can you read it?"

"I don't read Latin."

"But isn't Romanian the language that's closest to Latin?"

"Yeah, it's pretty close, but it's kind of like what old English is to Modern; completely different. Maybe you can spot a word here and there, but it's mostly gibberish."

Starr felt disappointed.

"I can tell you this, though: A grimoire is a book of spells. Necro, from the Greek word Nekros, means dead."

As he said this, Starr felt her skin grow warm.

He seemed not to notice, as he flipped through the pages once more, and then tossed it on the bed.

Dinner was a stiff necked affair. The fleet sat on one side of the room while a blend of military and suits sat on the other.

Saul and Emil sat whispering to each other while Michelle and Chanler bickered at their end of the table. Sari, James, and Alin listened, intently, to the guys across the room. Periodically, they'd look each other in the eyes, and Starr knew they were communicating telepathically.

Every so often, the Fleet members would look each other in the eyes, and grimace about the conversations they overheard.

The military men and their suited cohorts didn't seem to realize that vampires had exceptional hearing; they didn't notice that every time they'd called them monsters, abominations, and unnatural, they'd heard. When a man, named Steve, suggested they get some torches and barbeque them all, Bob agreed with such seriousness that Starr got worried.

When a guy replied to Steve, "...I'd like to get a hose, hook it up to some holy water and shove it up their asses..." James rose out of his seat, demon eyes alight, and ready to trash them all, but Chanler ordered that he sit back down.

"We all know how they feel about us. Let them act as though we're oblivious to them," he commanded.

"This is good," Starr added, "because if they're planning to double cross us, and I think they are, we'll be ready for them."

"Oh, so you're one of us, now," said Alin, raising his eyebrows comically.

Later that night on her way up to bed, she caught up with Chanler in the hall.

"How long do you think this cleanup is gonna take?"

"Years, unfortunately. Every governor is responsible for cleaning up their own state, but we're just gonna visit with them and help out with any difficult areas, or mass accumulations, so our part – the Fleet's roll – should only last a year or two at most. Most civilians are gonna be faced with the responsibility of taking vampires out, too, and especially if they want to move back into their homes and return to work, and a normal functioning society. We can only hope that innocents don't get killed, and that people handle this responsibility well."

Starr was getting impatient. She couldn't care less about their tour of duty. "Yeah, but how long to clean up D.C. and the United Nations?"

"All you want is to go home. Starr, how can you be so selfish?"

Suddenly, it felt like hot coals were in the pit of her stomach.

"I just missed my seventeenth birthday because I was in a fire; I haven't been to school in over a year; I've been burned, decapitated, shot more times than I can count. People, my age, are supposed to be worrying about college and friends, and clothes and makeup, but, instead, I'm here with you!"

Cutting their conversation short, Michelle walked toward them with a look that said 'get away from my man.'

Starr said nothing more, went inside her room and closed the door.
Messy Cleanup
Chapter 4

The next morning, Starr showered, went for an early breakfast, and went down to the front of the building, with the Fleet members. As usual, the Army men kept to themselves.

Moments later, three trucks drove up. She and the Fleet climbed into the middle one, while everyone else climbed into the others.

Seventeen hours passed before they made it to the onramp into DC; they didn't stop once, except to change drivers.

They all parked on Pennsylvania Avenue, right in front of the White House South Portico, which the Army wanted to inspect first.

Alin told them to wait.

Seeing the White House was a shock, and not just because it looked smaller, to her, than it looked on television and in history books, but because it was completely trashed.

Many windows that were visible from between the trees were broken. From one window, bloody handprints could be seen on the outer ledge, followed by heavy black smudges right below them; likely shoes from someone trying to slow their fall.

The double doors of the South Portico were busted into bits. On the East Side of the property, a pile of arms, legs, heads, and torsos had been stacked next to a charred out section of the lawn.

"Well, Starr," said Alin. "This is where you come in."

Starr's ability to see in other places, otherwise known as remote viewing, was a power that no one in the Fleet had.

She probed the ground floors, first: Next, the Red, Green, and Blue Rooms, followed by the rest of the West and East Wings.

Then she extended her view to the Executive Residence, where she said, "I see a couple in what appears to be a guest room."

Steve, from dinner, the night prior, said, "Okay, let's go."

"No, wait," she said strongly, wanting to try something she'd thought of in the night.

She concentrated, hard, on one of them, and it burst into flames.

Starr couldn't help but be pleased as she went after the others and picked them off, one by one.

"What's going on?" asked Chanler.

"Shh..." she said, trying to concentrate on the last one, but his incessant talking agitated her, making her accidentally obliterate the last one, sending chunks of meat and blood everywhere.

"Starr, answer me."

Annoyed by Chanler, yet intrigued by her new abilities, she replied "They're gone."

"Gone?" asked Emil.

"Burned the first couple; obliterated the last one, thanks to Chanler. Let me check the rest Executive Residence."

"Well?" asked Alin, after a moment.

"I hear something; it's in some sort of storage room, but I'm having a hard time penetrating the walls. I think it's some sort of panic room."

"Wait!" commanded an older military man, Sergeant Kale. "You might be viewing the Presidential Shelter; a place that's supposed to protect them in war times."

"The president isn't in there; it's just a girl."

"We need to check it out before you do anything."

He turned around and signaled to the men, who climbed over the wrought iron fence.

Starr and the others leapt over the black metal bars and landed on the grass beside them.

As they walked around to the Executive Residence, Starr observed all the dead bodies along West Executive Avenue, most of which had their cavities eaten clean out.

They forced their way into the president's residence, and found their way down to the storage rooms. From behind a tapestried wall, they sensed a presence.

"Stand back," said Alin, who concentrated on the door, but when he couldn't melt it with pyro-kinesis, he asked Starr to help.

After a few moments, they melted down the door and, from inside, a pubescent teen with pig tails came out.

"It's too late," said Starr. "She's turned."

Sergeant Kale shouted, "Wait!"

Alin paid no attention, as he pulled a large knife from his belt and hacked off her head in one swipe.

"That was the president's daughter," he said somberly.

"Not anymore," said Chanler.

Back outside, on the lawn, Starr probed buildings, looking for vampires, and it didn't take long for her to find them. Along the Constitution Avenue, nearly every building had hundreds of them, like cockroaches on a three week old corpse.

"Well," Starr sighed and walked across the lawn. "We definitely have our work cut out for us.

She leapt over the black metal bars and proceeded across the street, and then headed toward the Federal buildings, followed by the others.

Hours went by with them killing vampires, who often came at them like rabid dogs. Starr found that it was impossible for her to use her mind to obliterate all of them, for it made her extremely weary, so she shot as many as she could, and beheaded them when they got too close.

By nearly midnight, they'd cleaned out almost half of the Avenue; from the National Mall all the way down to the Gatehouse, and then Capitol Hill.

The Army men killed vampires pretty well for their selves, but on the few occasions when they got into trouble, they acted like they would have rather died then be helped by Starr and the Fleet.

"A thank you would be nice," said Michelle at one point. "We just saved your asses."

"Yeah, and it's because of you that we're in this mess to begin with," said a blond man, and then he walked off.

Exhausted, they camped on the grounds of the South Portico that night.

There were two large campfires; one in front of the West Wing, where the Army camped, and the Fleet's fire, in front of the East Wing.

The soldiers ate army meals while Starr and the others roasted a lamb that Emil picked up from a butcher. Despite offers and envious feelings, the soldiers refused to touch any of their meat.

"And look," he exclaimed to Starr, in his Swiss accent. He rested the lamb on his shoulder, and unraveled a paper bag, but Starr could already smell what was inside, and her inner demon wanted what was wrapped in that white shiny paper, and secured with white tape. "Lamb brains. Americans have good taste, after all. We ate this even when I was human!" he grinned.

Emil, helped by Sari, sliced the bloody, spongy brains and put them on a platter with crackers, sliced goat cheese and sundried tomatoes.

Every once in a while Starr would catch him watching her out of the corner of her eye.

"You know, Starr," said Emil, as he leaned over and sliced off a large chunk of lamb, placed it on a plate, and handed it to her. "Things aren't so bad at the Council. There needs to be people in the world, like us, because, otherwise, it would be absolute mayhem. Imagine the world without laws, without police, or military. Despite all the work we do, it's quite an adventurous job."

"I would love to work with you, but there are other responsibilities that I've got. Also, the kids at the clinic: Who would take care of them?"

"What if you and the kids come to stay in Romania, for a short while? I have a feeling that things are going to get worse, for everyone, before they get better."

"No, Emil. I appreciate the offer, but what would the kids do while trapped in a castle in the Carpathian Mountains?"

After hours of eating and talking, Starr and the Fleet finally settled into their sacks for a rest.

At dawn, they climbed back inside the trucks and drove through the outer neighborhoods, looking for more vampires.

Meanwhile Sergeant Kale called in a cleanup crew, to come and remove the bodies from the government buildings and burn them.

Luckily, they made it through the neighborhoods of the city fairly quickly, and found themselves headed to New York City by late afternoon.

This made Starr extremely happy, for she wanted to see what her chances were for moving back into the clinic because she missed the city life.

When they came upon a barrage of cars that blocked the entire freeway, they decided to go off road. They turned right, onto a slippery, grassy bank and down into what looked like soaked mud, but turned out to be a bog of broken pipes.

The first truck and the Fleet's managed to get across the mud, but the third truck sank as if the earth disappeared from underneath it.

The men screamed as they were nearly swallowed.

After they got them all out of the truck, they set about trying to tow it out. When nearly an hour of trying passed, they finally managed to drag it out, but not before breaking the other truck's axel.

The ground too soggy, Starr, the Fleet, and the soldiers made their way to a dry spot, a mile up, where they could camp.

Sergeant Kale and a few of his men rode on into the city, and looked for supplies and didn't make it back until after dark.

When they realized they'd be there all night, Emil grabbed Starr by the hand and said, "Let's go look for kindling."

As they went into the brush, he asked, "So what's up with you and Chanler?"

"What do you mean?"

"I see the way you two look at each other," he said as he winked at her.

Starr laughed mildly, "We had a flirtation, but he's with Michelle."

"Du bist schon," he said in German. "Don't waste your time pining when there are other men out there who would love to be with you."

She pulled some moss off of a tree and turned.

He was looking back at her, the sun gleaming off his blond head, making his blue eyes look light.

"I loved the way you came into the government building. I could not have done it better myself. The others would not say, but they were just as amused."

Starr said nothing. Sure, Emil was very good looking, but Starr had never thought of him as a love interest before. Never, had she a clue, and not ever even sensed, that he noticed her.

"Have you ever been to Switzerland?" he said, switching his 'w' for a light 'v'.

"No."

"I'm from a small town called Grindewald. Lots of tourists, there, but when they aren't, it's a lovely little town with snowy peaks. That's where I was first turned. I have a beautiful home there. You should come visit me this summer; you will love it."

Not knowing what to say, she turned back to the moss.

"See up there?"

He was pointing to something in the trees: there were ripe cumquats.

She leapt up onto a thick branch to gather as many bunches as she could. As she reached for a particular bushel of healthy untouched by bugs or animals fruits, she felt the branch waver.

Next thing she knew, she was in Emil's arms. He held onto her as cumquats from the rattled tree broke loose and fell all about them, some hitting them in the head and landing on the ground.

For a moment, their eyes met. His body gave off a highly sweet pheromone. Starr's inner demon was receptive to it, for every pore in her body suddenly felt alive, and from deep within her womb came a light growl.

Back at the camp, the soldiers had returned with parts to repair the truck, but their lift had broken. A few of the vampires went to help lift the truck while the soldiers fixed it.

Later that evening they sat around the camp fire. Starr stared into the flames, wondering about the kids until Emil came and plopped down with two dead squirrels in his hand.

He sat annoyingly close, and whispered, "You want one?"

Starr's demon lightly growled at the sight of fresh meat.

With their hands they pulled back the fur and threw it in the fire, and then ate the squirrels raw without discarding their innards.

"Do you have to do that?" asked a young soldier named Dave. His eyes were wide and his lips were peeled back, in disgust.

They hadn't thought to consider that there were humans who might be offended.

"You don't like it then leave, Boy!" said Emil with eyes that had turned iridescent.

"You should be put down with the other vampires," he said, and grabbed a lit log and walked off to find his own spot.

The other soldiers, sickened, grabbed some firewood, from the pile, and followed.

That night she lied in Emil's arms and fell asleep. She wasn't crazy about him, but it felt nice to be held. The more she thought about him, and looked at him, the more willing she was, to engage his flirtation.

A relationship was still something she'd never had a real chance to try. There was Antony, before she killed him, but she never had sincere feelings for him, and he certainly didn't have them for her, not really, anyway.

Deep feelings were something that was hard for vampires to feel, but Starr would have loved to know love, at least once.

Before she drifted off to sleep, she felt someone watching her with disgust. She opened her eyes and it was none other than Chanler who lay with Michelle; her arm on his chest and face in the nook of his shoulder.

_Hypocrite,_ she whispered into his mind.

The next day, they arrived in New York City by eight that morning.

As they made their way to Turtle Bay, Starr took glances into buildings here and there. What she saw made her very sad. She knew it would be awhile before she and the others could return to the city.

They parked right on the plaza.

Sargeant Kale said, "Let's start with the Conference and Visitor's Center."

"Okay," said Starr. "It seems clear."

Cautiously, the first of Kale's men went inside, followed by Starr and the Fleet, and the rest of the men.

"Most of the lower floors are clear, but we should look at the," Starr paused and looked at the map displayed behind plastic on a stand, "here," she pointed as she walked up to it, "the Secretariat Building, and there's a ton in the General Assembly, and of course the Hammskjold Library."

After a short discussion about who would handle what, Starr and the Fleet went to the General Assembly where the most of them were trapped.

When they stepped off the elevator, Starr heaved; like before, the vampires had taken to eating each other. Normally, rotted corpses didn't bother her, but the sight of so many together with emptied cavities disgusted her.

It didn't take long for the vampires, that hadn't been eaten, to find them. As they walked up either side of the rows, from open doors on both sides of the short podium came a few; they shot accordingly, but more came, and then more. Finally, it was a like a stampede of vampires, and not even they could shoot fast enough.

Within moments, they were completely surrounded by them, Starr, for the first time in a long time, felt panicked.

They were getting too close, and she thought, for a moment, that her end had finally come.

"Starr," called Emil, but Starr kept fighting and shooting because to let up, even for a second, would mean she would be their next meal.

The vampires closed in even more on her. She heard Michelle screaming on the other side of the room; they must have been surrounded, too.

" _Starr_ ," called Alin from somewhere on the other side of the room. " _Burn them up!"_

But her emotions were so rattled that instead of setting them aflame, she made them explode, covering them all in blood and guts.

It was still not enough, as the vampires got closer. Emil stepped in front of her, trying to protect her.

Something hot and wet ran down her face.

_Am I crying?_ she asked herself, as vampires rarely could do such things.

That was it; it was the end.

She gave up.

Starr wrapped her arms around his waist and turned her face into his neck, and prepared herself for the pain of being ripped apart while still alive.

Starr could feel their hunger; hear their thoughts. It was suffocating her, as their desires to hunt and kill swallowed her consciousness.

One reached out and touched her. She closed her eyes even tighter, and her mind shouted, _NOOOO, STOOOP!!!_

But the first bite never came.

"Starr, look," said Emil.

She opened her eyes and saw hundreds of frozen faces. Starr pulled her head away from the nook of Emil's neck, and looked around.

All the vampires around them stood stock still.

Suddenly, she had a flash back to the marsh in Louisiana.

_The alligator,_ she reminded herself.

There were shouts from the other side of the room.

Starr spoke to them all, telling them to stop.

"What happened? Why aren't they moving?" asked James.

"It's you, isn't it?" asked Emil, as she looked up into his crystal eyes.

She made a small smile, and he smiled back at her.

It was a long hard day, moving from floor to floor. They'd go into a room, Starr would tell them to freeze, and then they'd go about and kill them one by one. Starr hated to admit to herself, but she was pleased, and so was everyone else – except the soldiers who remained grumpy as usual.

But even more, she was touched by Emil's willingness to die with her, and how he stayed with her, when he could have run. After that, she looked at him with a new respect and admiration.

_After all,_ she asked of herself, _where was Chanler?_

Chanler sensed Starr's change, too. He knew he'd lost Starr to Emil, and instead of being friendly about it, and trying to make it up to Starr, he turned real cold. He was the only one who didn't congratulate Starr for her work that day. Neither did Michelle, but she had a permanent little smirk on her face.

By the time the sun started to set, everyone was ready to call it a day. They were messy, smelly, and covered in blood and body parts, but they'd managed to kill all the vampires in the entire 39 floor building.

Starr and the Fleet wanted to stay at the Marriott on 42nd, thinking they'd earned it, but the Army insisted they stay at a Ramada Inn in Queens.

Too tired to argue, they agreed.

After inspecting the neighborhood for vampires, they all took rooms on the second floor; the soldiers on the first.

After hot showers, Starr and the others met down in the Ramada's tiny restaurant and bar. Emil was already in the kitchen, cooking what he could find.

"You call this meat?" he asked James. "Just terrible! The food here is just terrible."

James rolled his eyes as he sifted through rotted fruits and veggies, and Sari set to thawing frozen bags he'd found in the freezer.

Starr hated the kitchen and, more than anything, she wanted to hang in the dining room and drink, but she wanted to see Emil.

Emil saw right through her, for he said, "Starr, go ahead and wait in the restaurant. We've got everything under control, here."

As she made her way back to the dining area, she pretended not to notice that both Chanler and Michelle's eyes were following her.

She laughed inwardly, _The wheels have turned._

Alin was behind the bar.

"Starr, aperitif?"

"Yeah, you know it, after today," she sighed. "How about an orange vodka and seven up."

"Well, just for the record, you were phenomenal. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you're cut out for this. Maybe it will take some time, but one day, we'll get you," he said with a smile.

Starr smiled back. Inwardly, Starr was starting to agree; she was cut out for the job.

Today felt really good.

"Godfather, please," Saul came up and sat next to Starr.

"Where are the soldiers?" asked Alin.

"Oh, they're outside being sour pusses as usual."

Despite the state of the kitchen, Emil managed to cook a hearty meal. As usual, Michelle kept Chanler to herself, but, not as usual, was the scowl on his face and the constant fleeting glances out of the corners of his eyes, at Starr.

When Alin, Sari, James and Saul finished, they went to the kitchens to clean and find dessert.

"So, Starr, tell me about yourself: How did you come to be a vampire?"

"It's a long story, but my friend, Michael, turned me."

"Oh, yes, Mick's kid."

After a moment of silence, he asked, "What kind of childhood did you have?"

"A nice normal one that I wish I could return to," she smiled, as she sipped her drink. "You?"

"Well, as I said, I grew up in the mountain-ski town called Grindewald. My parents had a café, before they retired, and now my brother, Egon, runs it."

"Your brother is still alive?"

"Well, ja. How old do you think I am?" he grinned. "I'm twenty –five; I was only turned a few years ago. Before that I was a Swiss Guard 'vorking' at the Vatican," he said. "I think that is partly why I like you; not just because you're hot and kickass, but you're the only person I can relate to, at least somewhat. Most of these guys can't even send simple text messages; they're worse than my grandparents, haha."

"My Grandparents aren't much better, either," she laughed lightly.

"Speaking of, what is your number?"

"I lost my phone in the fire, but I'm sure we'll see other again soon enough."

Inwardly, she hoped....

The guys came back with a couple frozen cakes and dishes. Everyone settled at the bar, even Michelle and Chanler, and had dessert.

Later that evening, Starr went to bed feeling quite satisfied: she was clean, full, and now a bed with a fluffy comforter was waiting for her.

She threw her clothes on the floor, with thoughts, like marbles, of Emil rolling around her mind, and climbed into bed.

She was only down an hour when there was an urgent knock at her door, waking her out of a heavy slumber.

"Just a sec," she called, as she clumsily put her clothes on.

"Yeah," she said as she opened the door.

No one was there.

From a few doors over, there was knocking on other doors. She stuck her head out and looked right: Alin was trying to rouse everyone from their rooms.

"Okay, everyone," said Alin. "We need to get out of here, now."

"Why?" asked Michelle, attitude boiling under her surface as usual.

"The soldiers are gone. I went around to perform security checks, and then to check on the soldiers, and they're gone."

"So, what are you saying?" asked Sari.

"I'm saying that something is not right."

"Wait," said Starr, who automatically set to sensing the other rooms. "I hear something in the stairwell; there's something there. I don't know what it is."

"I hear it, too," said James. "A beeping noise, like a digital clock."

And then Starr's eyes met James, whose eyes had widened, wildly.

"OUT, NOW! IT COULD BE A BOMB!" he shouted.

And he ran to the hallway, followed by the others.

Instead of taking the stairs or the elevator, he leapt through the window, fell to the ground and ran across the street.

Starr and the others followed.

A moment later, they stood across the street, looking at each other.

"Are you sure it was a bomb?" asked Alin.

"No," he sighed. "I guess I've seen too many movies."

But then there was an increase of heat, and a sudden brightness that glared in their faces. They looked back at the building: the first floor was massively alight.

One minute later, the sounds of blasts came from within the building, the ground rumbled heavily, and all seven stories caved inward.

"Wow, they really took the time to do us in," said Sari. "They even professionally wired it so as to implode, which means they must have set this up days ago."

"What do we do, now?" asked James.

"Well, it's just as well they should think we're dead, and that way we remain anonymous. This is a gift unrealized," said Starr.

"What about our tour?" Emil wondered.

"Consider it canceled. Now, we go after Lucenzo and Amir," Alin replied.
Almost Home
Chapter 5

They landed on the bank of Lake George half an hour later. Starr hated telling the Fleet she'd known where Lucenzo was for a while, and had not even bothered telling them or trying to take him out.

Worse, she hated betraying Lily, but what could she do? Lucenzo and Amir had to be stopped, or they would continue their attempts at a world takeover.

It may not have been a perfect world for a vampire, but she couldn't imagine a world run by Lucenzo and Amir. She wanted the world she knew, the world as it was, now.

Starr especially didn't want a world policed by the stinking scent of the new species. What would it be like to see them on every street corner, forcing people, like Starr, to do as a dictator commanded?

Over and over, she wondered what she would do with Lily, once she got there?

Turn her?

She was only thirteen.

Well, hopefully, Lucenzo would have been kind enough to entrust the antidote to her, for, even if he didn't survive, he was extremely loyal to her. And, as long as she had the recipe for the antidote, then Starr would do whatever it took to procure it for her.

Their arrival to the lake further proved that Starr was right: Lucenzo and Amir needed to be taken down, immediately.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Michelle, a look of petrified fear on her face.

Looking up the bank, into the trees, the backs of many bodies stood stiff, not turning to look at them, not flinching, or fidgeting, but standing like hundreds of statues in the trees.

"Why don't they attack us?" asked James.

"Lucenzo controls them, probably the same way that Starr did, back at the U.N.," Alin answered.

"I don't want to go in there," whimpered Michelle.

"We have to," said Alin, who walked up the bank and into the trees.

She and the others followed.

"Starr," said Alin. "Walk up front with me, please."

Standing next to every other tree they passed were the still bodies of vampires, all standing and staring in the same direction, which was toward the cabin where she met Lucenzo, last time, she soon realized.

"My god," Alin breathed. "There's got to be thousands in this forest, alone."

Their white skin gleamed under the rays of light that poked through the leaves of the tall trees.

As she passed them, she looked at their faces, wondering if it were possible to break them from Lucenzo's control; in other words, relinquish his mental hold on them, perhaps by striking them.

The answer to her question came, a moment later, when there was the sound of something large toppling onto leaves, making loud crunching noises.

They turned back and saw Michelle looking down at a vampire she'd run into. It fell over and laid there like dead weight, and didn't stir furthermore.

She tried to sense if they were hungry, like she did with the alligator, but it was as if they were pieces of cold cement.

When they approached the cabin, Starr stopped a moment.

"What's wrong? Why have you stopped?" asked Alin.

Starr's chest heaved and moisture bespeckled her face.

Alin looked at her and said, "Don't be frightened, Starr. You're stronger than they are. I can sense this about you. Even if you can't fight them all, I don't think they'd hurt you, anyway, not as long as Lily wants you alive."

She patted him on the shoulder, sighed and walked up the steps, across the porch and opened the door without knocking.

The room was dark.

Instinctively, her demon came out. She felt her fangs extend, and suddenly her night vision became even clearer.

"No one's here," said Alin, whose fangs were bared, and eyes a glowing shade of red.

"Do you smell that?" asked Chanler, with lavender and red iridescent eyes.

Starr inhaled; there was a draft of air flowing into the room.

"It's coming from the kitchen," said Emil around a mouthful of fangs, and who was giving off a hazy white aura.

Carefully, they followed the draft to the kitchen, and, carelessly, down into a cellar.

Across the room, the ground door was open.

They intended to continue outside, but then someone shut and barred it. Quickly, they turned to exit back through the kitchen door, but it was shut, too.

"God, we're so _stupid!_ " yelled Saul. "How could we fall for that?"

"Who cares?" asked Michelle. "Doors can't keep us!"

"Don't you think they _know_ that, Michelle?" asked Chanler.

But then things got worse.

"Do you smell that?" asked Sari in a slightly higher voice.

Suddenly, the walls were engulfed in bright orange flames.

A loud wailing noise, like an elephant only worse, came from Michelle.

" _Shut up!"_ yelled Alin, whose demon voice, now, sounded digitally altered, like in a movie. " _God, Michelle, I don't know why we keep you!"_

"What do we do?" asked Starr.

"Let me think."

"Okay, I got an idea. Can you burst the pipes?"

"What?"

"Explode them, the way you blew up the vamps, back at the U.N.?"

She shook her head, "I don't know."

"Just try! You're our only hope; there's no way we can break through the ceiling before we're toast," said James.

At first, she didn't know how to go about doing such a thing, but, then, they told her to concentrate, and they all got really quiet. All she heard was the flames licking. She told her inner demon to help her find water in the walls.

After a moment, she'd located the pipes. Starr saw them, clearly, in her mind, and focused on heating the metal.

Seconds went by; she saw the pipes expand under her concentrated pyrokinesis. Then, suddenly, she felt little trickles of water, but as the others took steps closer to her, Starr began to panic because she knew the fire was closing them in.

She'd felt fear a lot, in the last few weeks, and, once again fear gripped her; a feeling that was hard for vampires to come by.

Her chest tightened, and her skin got extremely warm. She couldn't do it, and she felt tears run down her face, again.

The panic became even more real, when she saw a flame ignite Chanler's pant leg, making her scream, and, with her scream, jolted her emotions, making not only the pipe burst, but the entire ceiling split down the middle.

Next thing she knew, the fire was out, but they were up to their middles in water.

Chanler sighed loud and gratefully.

James and Sari ran at the kitchen door and easily kicked it in; Starr and the others followed them out.

"They're moving!" he said, looking out the window.

Out onto the porch, and true enough, the vampires had begun to recede into the woods.

"Let's see where they're going!" shouted Alin urgently.

He leapt off the porch and ran into the trees, followed by Starr and the others.

Quickly, they ran past them, trying to find the lead, that is, the beginning of the herd.

They follow them for a quarter of a mile, at which point, the vampires had begun to assemble themselves into a line, almost like an invisible funnel forced them.

They followed the line, and it led them to a curved road where half a dozen semi trucks were parked. The vampires crawled into their beds and stood face to face in them.

As the first one got full, the line moved to the second and third truck.

"We gotta stop these trucks from leaving," said Michelle.

"Tell us something we don't know," Emil retorted.

"Well, this ought to make things easy," said Chanler as he pulled his hand gun.

The others followed suit, and they began shooting the vampires in the head, one by one, while Saul went to disable the trucks from under their hoods.

Starr and Alin combined their pyrokinesis and set to burning up the first full truck. Alin could have done it himself, but he wanted Starr to practice controlling it, since she was new at it.

They'd only managed to kill off a few hundred vampires before they were attacked by a dozen people in black outfits with masks to match.

Their attackers flew at them from the sky. Two came at Starr, pointing guns at her.

Starr looked at their weapons and heated them, making them release their grips. Then she ran at them both with a scissor kick, dropping them instantly.

She turned to help Alin, who was getting his head kicked in. Starr dragged the assailant back, with an arm around the neck, and landed an axe kick when he turned around.

They went around to help the others, and it wasn't long before the Fleet had their attackers bound.

Next, they returned to killing the vampires, but then they started to move away from the trucks.

"What is going on?" asked Emil.

"They're turning on us," said Starr.

And though they fought hard, there were simply too many of them.

It wasn't long before they were surrounded.

"Starr, stop them!" shouted Alin.

"I can't! Lucenzo's mind control is stronger than mine!"

Once more, Starr thought it was the end, but then her skin got really warm, and a tingling sensation traveled her every pore, almost as if her blood had come to life and was traveling in her veins.

A familiar sensation came over her.

"Look," said Chanler, pointing at the large white moon.

She looked up and saw the figure of a woman, highlighted by the moon, flying in their direction.

The figure stopped above them and pushed the vampires back, telekinetically, and then she proceeded to killing them all.

She was strong, probably the most powerful vampire in the world, for she could kill with just her will.

As simple as turning off a light switch, they all dropped dead, one by one.

Once done, she landed on the ground, looking majestic as always, with waist length black hair and eyes glowing like embers.

Credenza was frighteningly beautiful, but her skin was a mask of the person she was, inside, which was cold and deadly. The blood in Starr told her that and, for a moment, she felt like she was Credenza.

"Nice job, protecting my protégé," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

The vampires in masks began to stir. Starr looked to them, but was distracted by a disturbance of the moon's ray.

From the sky, the light was partly obscured by a row of vampires flying towards them.

They were even more majestic, more god like looking creatures than Credenza. Each one was seven feet or taller with long hair and eyes with flames that danced inside them.

Starr found them hard to look at.

"Where do you think you're, all, going," Credenza asked of the vampires, who were trying to escape.

Then, like an invisible hand pulled them, they were yanked back to the ground and pinned there.

"Starr and I will go after Lucenzo and Amir, I hear them up aways," she said, looking back into the forest, and then her eyes settled on Starr's. "We need to talk."

Meeting Again
Chapter 6

Starr didn't know how to start in her approach to Credenza. For the last few months, and even the last couple days, Starr had a million questions for her, but even more, she always imagined that she'd be strong and defiant; that she'd tell Credenza to back off, and she'd be forced to respect her wishes, but seeing her in that way, with such powerful vampires at her side, she was silenced. It made her realize that she needed to better assess who this person was and how morally righteous or corrupt she was, before standing up for herself.

Vampires dropped dead as they passed them.

After it became apparent that Credenza intended to say nothing, Starr asked, "I thought we needed to talk?"

"I figured you needed a minute; you seemed surprised to see me."

"Well, yeah, it's a shock. The Fleet's been looking for you, and then all of a sudden you show up and you're fine. They thought you were dead, and who were those vampires in the sky?"

"They're the last Primordial; the first vampires."

"The first vampires? But I thought the first were like these species, here, crazed by the virus?"

"The first _humans_ , bitten by vampires, couldn't stand the infection; it was they who went crazy. Centuries went by, and humanity adapted, passing along an antibody along with the virus."

At first, she didn't' get it, but after a moment, she asked, "You speak of the Primordial as if they're not human?"

"The real vampires were an ancient race that'd begun to die out back during the Bronze Age. Later, what was left of them, were sometimes depicted in ancient Greece's tragedies, but they mistook them for gods."

"If they're so superior, then why did they die out?"

"Every species goes extinct; it's nature. Groups live and then they die, and especially if they run out of options for breeding, as nearly every primitive group, on this planet, has. Every culture, and every race and ethnicity, has, at one time, belonged to several others."

"So the Primordial are not immortal?"

"Yes, they're immortal, but some of them destroyed themselves because they were ready to die, and others ebbed away."

"What do you mean by ebbed away."

"Meaning they receded, slowly, from the physical world. As we, vampires, age, our bodies harden and our minds grow weary; eventually we slip into semiconsciousness, and finally unconsciousness."

"How long does it take?"

"It takes millenniums to get to that point, but there are ways to prevent it from happening; one needs to stay active, and to stay involved, for that, one needs to desire life."

"Why didn't they just do that? Why didn't they stay active?"

"As you've already surmised, in the past, living forever is like having the same nightmare over and over again. Life isn't easy, and living it, repeatedly, is even harder. To quote you: 'each time – each life - with the same painful punch lines.' Nothing changes, not really."

Starr remembered back to the contemplation she had of her closest friend, Marla, who was the softest vampire of them all. To live forever, you need to be hardened. With all the pain, and all the love lost, and this cycle repeated again and again, it was certain that some vampires would never make it to the point of 'ebbing away,' as Credenza said. The loss of feeling, caused by the virus, was a benefit to their survival, only it didn't affect everyone the same.

"Are you a real vampire?"

"Half," she answered.

She wanted to ask more questions, but they'd approached a large hill. Credenza signaled that they should jump, but Starr wasn't strong enough to jump so high, and had to levitate.

When she landed, she said, "Well, tell me what it was that you intended to."

She was relieved that Credenza invited her to speak, and wasted no time in saying, "I want to be left alone; I want to go to school, to see my friends, to have a normal life."

"And you should have it."

"I should?"

"I thought you'd be thrilled to join us. We are warriors. Once, a warrior was the pride and envy of nearly everyone born. Heroism meant riches, rewards, honor, respect, a grand marriage..."

Completely baffled, she asked, "What in the world would make you even think that I want to be a warrior? This is not the Middle Ages."

After another moment of silence, she said, "I appreciate everything you've done for us, and, from here on out, you will not be bothered."

She turned to walk off, and signaled Starr to follow.

"I've just one more question. What happened on the night you rescued me? Why did you leave me in that house, alone?"

She followed Credenza in the direction of a dark house that was up ahead.

"I healed you, and now you're powerful. Now you can protect your kids."

"I could always protect them. I never needed you, never," she repeated. "You know that, so why?"

When Credenza said nothing, an alarm went off, inside her brain. It was a simple question, and there was no reason for her not to answer, unless she was hiding something.

As they got closer to the house, Credenza walked faster, making it hard for Starr to keep up.

"Why won't you answer my question?"

She followed her inside the dark house. In the dusty, moldy living room, Lucenzo and Amir were pinned to the floor by invisible bonds.

"Why did you make us fight, if capturing them, yourself, would have been so easy?"

"Because I have better things to do. Besides, I'm trying to retire. I've been handling small matters, like these for centuries. I'm done, unless it is absolutely necessary that I participate."

"You call a vampire apocalypse small matters?"

"Yes, small. If this is a war, it is the pettiest I've ever seen. We suffered way more casualties when the Mongols came to our city."

"Enough chit chat! Let's get this over with," said Amir in a thick Ukranian accent.

"Oh, let's not rush things," Credenza mused. "Starr has something to ask."

"Where's Lily?"

"She's gone. Don't worry, she has enough antidote, and she knows how to remake it. As long as she follows my regimen, she'll be fine."

"But did she rejoin the kids from the clinic?"

"I don't think so, sorry. She seemed to think that no one wanted her, there, and I thought it best she not tell me anything, in case we were caught, after she departed. No doubt, some would insist on her destruction."

"The Primordials are getting impatient; they are calling me. We will go now." said Credenza.

"Do we have to do this? Do you have to kill him?"

She wasn't sure where her sudden compassion came from, but she knew that Lily would have wanted him spared. Starr was angry with Lucenzo, but she wasn't sure that she wanted him dead, either, and especially after all they'd been through.

"Amir, yes; Lucenzo, no. His father is Vidar, one of the Primordials, and he's ready to take him home."

Starr looked at Lucenzo and it all made sense. There was always something pure about him, and about his scent: it was sweet and pleasant, unlike others who barely had any scent at all, after being turned – except in extreme cases. Several times, she'd mistaken that sweet air for attraction, but it was his natural animal pheromone.

"Where's home?"

But Credenza was silent.

_She won't tell you,_ Lucenzo whispered into her mind. _It is a hidden peak, in the north, that no one has seen in millenniums, since the shifting of the Earth._

"Funny, I thought you were turned after World War II, after you came to America."

"I never said that. In the forties, I was posing as a human boy, at the academy where I met my friends; it was my first time away from home."

"Are they safe? Nico, Kris, and your brother, Fernand?"

"Yes, they're fine; they're hiding."

Finally, Credenza said, "Alright, we gotta go."

"I won't fight you, but you are not to kill Amir; he is to be spared. He only acted under my control. I forced him to do everything."

"Fine," she said. "We'll let your father decide."

And then, like an invisible hand held them, they floated through the air, behind them as they made their way back to the road.

As they walked back, Starr wondered how long it would take for them to burn up all the dead bodies and distribute their ashes?

When they got back, the ancient vampires stood on the road, with heads high, in a line with their hands behind their backs. Just like Emil, their skin gave off a hazy, glowing aura, only brighter, making her wonder if Emil was part Primordial as well.

The Black Fleet stood some feet away from them, in a semicircle, looking perplexed. On the ground, their assailants, from earlier, lay dead. Starr noticed they had no evidence of bodily harm, the Primordials, likely, told them to die, the way Credenza did just moments ago.

As they approached, Starr noticed how one particular vampire with blazing orange-red hair and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, looked Credenza direct in the eye; they were communicating telepathically.

Briefly, his eyes averted to Starr's, and, for a moment, she felt like she was under the burning ray of a laser.

Lucenzo and Amir floated toward them. Without a word, the Primordials ascended back into the air, and, just as they took off into the sky, Lucenzo whispered into Starr's mind.

Whatever you do, don't trust Credenza, she has plans for you, and they aren't kind. I'd start with the Necro-Grimoire, if I were you. I'll see you soon, and I hope that we can be friends, again.

Next, Credenza disappeared without a goodbye. She left so fast that Starr wasn't sure if she walked away or flew.

Starr felt in her pocket to make sure the Necro-Grimoire was still there.

Good to Be Home
Chapter 7

It took a whole week to burn all the bodies. Though she scrubbed and sudded and soaked, she could still smell the sickening cinnamon, burnt flesh and bone, and char and ash.

After they'd burned their last bodies, they took the evening to feast on the opposite side of the bank, where the air was fresher.

Saying goodbye was sad, because she would have liked to have spent some time with Emil, but the last thing she wanted was to spend more time doing Fleet stuff. The best thing to do was distance herself.

A tingling sensation shot down her neck and chest when he kissed her lips and told her to call him as soon as she got another phone.

Starr knew that if she bothered with getting another phone, it would only be so that she could talk to him, as she hated talking on the phone normally.

Chanler, of course, scowled.

As she watched them levitate into the blue sky, she tried to think of what to do next. Should she try to find the kids? Or should she find a cabin and have some alone time?

She was always torn between the next thing that needed doing, and relaxing in peace and quiet.

Starr walked along the bank, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Every once in a while, she'd pull out the Grimoire and flip its pages.

By late afternoon, she sat on a bald, sandy spot of the bank and stared at the water.

Making her jump, from up the bank, came the sound of laughing and talking.

She stood up and turned around.

Facing her was Misaki, Misty, and Lucas, from the clinic; they were both rescued and abandoned kids that Starr, and her friends, had vowed to look after. They stopped, still, and stared in silence; their eyes wide.

Starr felt a smile spread her face. An emotion she hadn't felt in a long time struck her: happiness.

"Is it really you?" asked Misaki.

"Yeah, it's me."

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile before; it's almost ghastly, like Wednesday Addams-ish," said Lucas.

"Why aren't you dead?" Misty asked.

"I was rescued."

"How? The cabin was completely caved in. There's no way you could have survived."

But before Starr could explain, the rest of the kids from the clinic showed up, including her best and closest friends Marla, Mica, and Shane who couldn't have looked more shaken by the sight of her.

"I knew you were alive!" shouted Shane. "Haha, didn't I tell you. I kept telling you, I felt her; she's alive! You were here, a while back, I felt it!"

With tears in her eyes, Marla grabbed Starr and nearly choked her to death. A second later, the arms of several others closed her in, tightly.

"If you're alive, then where the hell have you been all this time? Why did you not tell us?" she asked.

"I'm sorry; I would have if I'd known where you were."

"We were just, here, on the other side of the bank. You, being what you are, should have found us with little difficulty!"

"I got sidetracked. Listen, I can't explain it all now. Have any of you seen Lily?"

"No, isn't she with Lucenzo?" asked Mica.

Starr looked at her, and then looked at the kids, and then at the dirt.

"Well, let's talk about it as we walk back to the house," she said, and then walked back up the path; Starr, Marla, and Shane followed.

In as concise a way as she could, she proceeded to tell them everything; how she woke in Louisiana; how she found Lily in Lake George; about the CDC and how they betrayed them.

But then her speech slowed, when she got to the part about Credenza, the Primordials, and Lucenzo's warning.

Instinctively, she felt for the Grimoire in her pocket.

"So the first vampires were a completely different race?" asked Shane.

"Yep."

"And Lucenzo was one of these?"

"And so is Credenza; well, she said she's half."

They walked up the sandy bank and through a cluster of trees. Next, she followed them several miles up a steep incline and found herself atop a four square mile mesa top.

"It'd be hard for vampires to sneak up on us here," said Marla.

"Wow," said Starr, eyeing a large white three story house complete with white stucco walls, fencing it in.

They opened the wrought iron gate, and passed a pretty flower garden.

Inside, the house was cool with wood floors and a large living room. They gave her a tour through the back, which had a swimming pool, hot tub, and gas grill.

Then they led her upstairs to the last room at the top.

"This can be your room," said Marla. "Oh, and I have something for you."

She walked out and came back a moment later.

In her hands, Marla held her favorite ruby studded sliver moon-shaped sickles.
Lost and wanna play catch up?

Vampin is now available in box sets 1-6, 7-9, and 10-15.

Series to Date:

Year 1

Vampin #1

Vampin Out #2

Boston #3

Her Last Days #4

Demon Chase #5

Bloody Delights #6

Demon Sprawl #7

Beheaded #8

Black Fleet #9

Year 2 (Scheduled to release 2012; check website for further information)

Other works include:

Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer

Funk's the Chocolate Loving Vamp

Maternal Absence

Misguided Trust

Blackthorn: In the Tween

A Very Blakely Christmas
http://vampinofficialsite.com

administrator@vampinofficialsite.com

About the author:

Jamie Ott is passionate about the fantasy genre of young adult literature. Currently, she is the published author of young adult novels, Adventures of Jacko the Conjurer Volume I, II, and III, and Maternal Absence. Last year, she published her first romance novel, Misguided Trust.

To contact the author: ladysonoma@americamail.com

For other information: passionateprose@mail.com

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