AWOL: A Character Lost (6 page)

“You can do this.” She handed him a couple of wooden stakes.

“Where will it be?”

“I don’t know. You’ll just have to find it.”

She looked back at the fight, and saw several more people go down via decapitation. A couple of vampires hit the floor, their bodies coming to rest in the dirt, something jammed into their heart. She was eager to get back and help.

“Okay?”

“I think,” the character replied, still unsure, but willing to do what he could to help.

“Go. Don’t worry about us. We got this.”

The character took the flash light and shined it down into the hole. There was a set of wooden stairs, but this set was long, longer than the others, in fact it was so long that the light couldn’t show him the end. While he lingered there he could smell foul air rising up from the hole. He drew in a breath, and started to descend, as Becky rejoined the fight.

The character descended until he reached the bottom of the stairs, needless to say, it was a very long climb down. He stepped onto the floor and shined the light around for a moment, getting to know his surroundings.

The floor was covered in dirt, but there was something else mixed in with it, a white substance like sand, the color of bone. He had an idea of what this white substance might be, but he tried not to think about it. It was spooky enough down here without scary things running around in his head. Did I mention it was also claustrophobic and smelly? That foul smell seemed to eek out of everything, like there was a scented candle lit nearby, the fragrance on the jar reading – death and decay.

He was standing in a small round space with a long tunnel in front of him. The light in his hand could only pierce the dark for a certain distance so he had no idea how long or far the tunnel ran. He turned around and saw nothing but a blank dirt wall with roots sticking out of it, and worms crawling back and forth. Not exactly pleasant to view, but it was comforting to know that he would at least have that wall at his back when he walked. He wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked from behind. Sure, something could slither down the stairs and creep up behind him, but he hoped the people up top would keep the vamps at bay long enough for him to complete his task. Only having to defend his front was at least something he could take comfort in, and he needed all of the comfort he could get right now.

Happy with himself and his assessment of the area, he started to walk and search, walk and search, as the sounds of the fight up top fell away into distant noises. The walk was tough, as he pushed through the thick heavy air of the tunnel, his legs tired and sore.

He stopped to catch his breath, and he was starting to think that maybe there was nothing down here, when a noise landed in his ears. It sounded like someone moving in a very tight confined space.

He hurried on as the fight at the top ended. The humans were slaughtered and in pieces. Even Becky wasn’t strong enough to make it through this one.

Four vampires remained.

They smelled the character getting close to their feeding chamber and their lair. They also smelled the two men outside, guarding the stables. It was decided that two of them would go to the stables while the other two would handle the intruder below. They split, and went off to handle their tasks.

The character was oblivious to all of this, of course, so he moved on, thinking he was safe and clear, starting to let his guard down. He reached the end of the tunnel and he found it ended in two rooms, one to the left, and one to the right. These rooms had no doors on them, carved and dug crudely out of the Earth.

The room on the left contained their coffins, the thing they liked to sleep in even though they didn’t need to down here. The room on the right was their feeding chamber. The rustling was coming from that room, so the character entered it, and froze on the spot. Hanging from the ceiling, were people of all shapes, ages, and sizes. They were being kept in individual bird cages that barely fit them. These cages were at least ten feet off the ground, and stood about five feet high from top to bottom; they had cast iron bars and solid gold locks on the doors.

“Dad?”

The voice had come from somewhere above, pulling the character away from his surveillance. This voice was groggy and faint, like some one waking from a dream. The character shined his light up into the gloom, but couldn’t see from which cage it had come.

“Michael.”

How did he know his son’s name? How could he tell it was a particular child from just his voice? He didn’t know, but he did know this. He just somehow knew. Fathers always seem to know.

“Over here dad, look up.” The voice was still groggy, but it was getting stronger.

He followed the voice until he found Michael’s cage. He shined the light up, and it gave him just enough of a glow to see the fourteen year old face of his oldest son.

“Hold on.” The character knew there had to be a lever or something that raised and lowered the cages. He walked around the room, flash light beam splashing around the room, desperation pounding in his chest like a giant drum.

Somehow he managed to find what he was looking for, on the wall, just by the edge of the door. It was a metal lever sticking out of a dirty silver box, stained with dried blood. This lever, when pulled down, would lower the cages, the doors would then be opened, and each vamp would grab their victim of choice. They would then feed and gorge themselves until they were full.

The character walked over to the lever, and traced his light over it. Something, just outside the light, caught his attention. He pulled the light off the lever, and shined it into the black. It was there and then that he saw the vampire standing in front of him, sizing him up. They were now looking eye to eye.

The character stumbled backwards, tripped and fell, the light falling out of his hands, but not shattering, as his butt hit the floor. He started to slide backwards in the brown and bone white dirt, leaving a trail as he moved. The vampire leaped on top of him, and the character fought off the advances of this creature with one hand, while fumbling in his pocket for a wooden stake with the other. He gripped a stake just as the vamp pinned him to the floor. The character took the stake and jammed it into the vamp’s heart. The vampire fell off of him and slinked away, screeching and crying, dying in the dark, just beyond the edges of the light.

The character got up to his feet and dusted himself off. He paused when he heard another vamp coming at him. This one wasn’t trying a sneak attack he had just decided enough was enough. It was time for this intruder to die.

The character grabbed another stake and this time took a stance, stake like a dagger in his hand. The vampire stopped moving for a moment, sensing danger, as the other vamp stopped screeching. It was dead.

“Come on then! I got a nice juicy neck for you!”

The vampire stalked.

The character circled, never leaving his spot or the light, the flashlight still lying on the floor, creating a circle of safety. While he waited for the vampire to attack, he could hear other people waking up, starting to stir just like his son.

Out of the darkness the vampire leaped, and the character bulls-eyed the heart with his first stab. He felt the vampire’s weight on the stake for a moment as the creature started to scream, going limp as he died. The character grabbed the beast’s slimy white skin with his free hand and then hoisted him into the air. This sent the creature flying. When the vamp hit the ground, he died screeching just like his friend.

The character grabbed the flash light, rushed over to the wall, and slammed down the lever. All the cages dropped onto the floor with a hard thud. The character grabbed the set of blood-stained keys hanging beside the box, and went around the room releasing the people. They staggered out one by one, groggy, and you bet, confused.

He reached his son’s cage and opened it. Michael (dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and an Iron Maiden t-shirt) fell into his father’s arms, and they embraced.

“I can’t believe he would do this to you.” The character pushed his kid out to arm’s length and shined the light over him, making sure he was okay. He was unharmed.

“Who dad?”

The character thought of the author as he sat at home in his cushy chair, free of all the danger he had put him and his son through. It really pissed him off.

“Nobody, let’s get out of here. I’m just glad you’re safe,” the character replied, snapping his fingers so everyone could hear it. They grouped around the character as he led his son towards the door. “I have a light, so you can follow me. I will lead you out of the tunnel and into safety.”

Out of the room they all went with the character leading, his son behind him, and the rest of the group following. They took the long journey down the tunnel; and, when they reached the stairs, the character stopped them. It was quiet up top, and no one had come down to find him. So, he assumed the worst. It was good that he did.

“Okay, folks, I’m going up first. Then my son and however you want to do it, each one of you. I don’t know what it will be like up top, but I have a feeling that if you are squeamish you better prepare yourselves.” He shined the light across the group, young and old, men, women, and children, all looking at him. “Once we get to the next level, you will have to walk to another set of stairs. That one will lead you to the outside. I will guide you, so don’t worry. Just follow me.” He turned away from them, put the light on the stairs, and started to move upwards.

At the top, he climbed out, and they followed him. He led them over to the second set of stairs; and, as they walked, they had to step past or over, detached human and vampire arms, feet, legs, heads, torsos, and hands as well as whole bodies, human and vampire destroyed or deformed by some kind of war like violence. The ground was also soft and wet from all the bloodshed, and this bloody mud squished as they walked. They all did their best to hold it together. There were a few fainters, a few vomiters, and a couple of kids had to be carried (crying and screaming, wanting their parents), but over all, most of them did okay.

At the second set of stairs, they grouped together, and listened to the character as he gave them their exiting instructions. “This is the way out. I am going to go up first and check to make sure there aren’t any more vampires lurking around. I’ll give you a signal if it is okay. While you wait, I know this is unpleasant, but you will need to find something to keep you warm, maybe a weapon as well.”

He saw Becky’s light, the one on the pole, and walked over to it. He pushed aside a headless body that was lying on top of it, and brought it back to the group.

“This light,” he replied, as he placed the pole in the ground, “will help you to see. I’ll signal down once I know it is clear.” The character grabbed a couple of stakes lying on the floor nearby, and then made his way up the stairs. At the top, just at the edge of the open door, he steadied his nerves and took a deep breath. He popped his head up and hoped his hunch was right.

It was.

Meanwhile, down below, the people started picking through the bodies, looking for anything that wasn’t destroyed or bloodied, anything that would keep them warm, and some managed to find a few weapons that were still loaded.

Back up top, the character found the small round room empty except for a body; one of the guys who had gone to guard the stables. The character rushed over to him, but it was obvious he was dead, throat ripped open from one ear to the other, forming a morbid red smile across it.

The character stood up, and made his way out into the very cold night. He saw nothing nor heard anything. He went back to the door in the floor and leaned down, somehow his voice carried all the way to the bottom. “The coast is clear.”

One by one they came out of the door, until the last one was out, which was Michael. The character lingered there for a moment, eyes still strained into the space below.

“Something wrong, dad?”

“Becky.”

“Who?”

“She helped me, a lot. In the confusion, I forgot about her. I wonder if I should go down and see if she made it through. Maybe she’s still alive, but unable to talk.”

“Dad, everyone’s dead down there. You saw it. We all saw it.”

“Yeah, I know, I just hoped – forget it, let’s get out of here.”

The character led his son towards the door. When they walked past the entrance way, there was a flash of light, and they both were gone.

The character came rolling out of the second story like a coin falling out of a slot machine, rattling, bouncing, and banging his way into the wall with a sick heavy thud. He lay there a moment, collecting himself, as the door to the vampire story flashed out.

After a moment or two, he got up on wobbly legs, grabbed the light, turned it on, and started to look around the room. When he was done, and sure his son wasn’t there, he looked up and said these words. “Where is he?”

“I think he’s back in his story. The place you should be,” I replied, finishing up my latest writing project, so I could focus in on him.

“You think or are you sure?”

“Nothing is really sure at the moment. They are more educated guesses than anything else, but logic says if he isn’t here he should be there.”

“How can you be sure he isn’t in another story?”

“I honestly can’t be sure, but my hunches are rarely wrong, especially when it comes to my writing.” I paused for a moment and he waited. “Did he say anything strange when you saw him or remember anything that might help you out?”

“No.”

Silent moments passed.

“I was hoping he would have some more insight.”

“Nothing at all,” the character replied.

“Do you need to stop for any reason or shall we continue?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay then, the Western genre is next,” I wrote, words flashing on the wall.

The character looked at the next door, trying to get the thoughts of Michael out of his head. He just had to hope his son was home safe and waiting for him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” the character replied, even though he knew he wasn’t, but being pissed wasn’t going to help get him home. He just had to suck it up and try to get back into the spirit of things.

“We can pause -”

“I’m perfectly fucking fine. Now let me move on to the next story. I can’t dick around in here if I plan to get home. So let’s get on with it.”

“Okay,” I replied, giving him another second, and then continued when he didn’t say anything. “You will need different clothes for that one. The ones you have been wearing are modern, and they fit in the last two stories, but not the next one.” I paused, thinking of western clothes, the ones I had seen in the movies. I have to admit I don’t watch a lot of westerns, but I have a basic idea of what he should wear. “Here goes.”

The character looked down and waited.

“You will first need a hat, a white one, good guys always wear white.”

The hat appeared on the floor. The character picked it up and looked at it.

“Next, jeans, a shirt, and boots with spurs on them; you have to have spurs.”

The objects appeared at the character’s feet as he held the hat in his hand.

“Next, a belt and belt buckle, with two holsters on each side, six shooters like all the cowboys had back then.”

He put the hat on his head and picked up the gun belt. “Will I really need these?”

“I just don’t know, but my hunches are telling me that there is something foul behind that door. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. I want you to be armed, just in case.”

“But, I didn’t die in the zombie story when the truck crushed me, so why would I need to worry about anything harming me in this one?”

“I want you to start out with every possible advantage you can have, just in case, and also, you might be home in the next story, so you need to start out fully prepared because you can die if it is your home story.”

“Got it,” the character replied, reading the flashing words.

“Go ahead and get dressed so you can get started, and remember, I don’t know if you know how to use those guns, so be careful.”

While the character dressed, he talked to me, trying to find closure from the last story he was in. “You know that was a pretty shitty thing to do to Becky, after all she did for me.”

“Those vampires were lethal, she just met her match.”

“I know, but I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. You could have at least had me go down there and find her.”

“I guess I could have written a scene like that, but it seemed like it would have slowed down the pace.”

“It would have been the honorable thing to do.” He finished dressing and put on his hat. “What happened at the end of the last story, with the guy dead at the door? What was that all about?”

“You mean the two guys guarding the stable?”

“One was dead in the doorway, and the other guy was nowhere to be seen. What happened out there?”

“What happened was that the vampires came up on them, and both men fought them till bravely. In the fight, they killed the vampires, but both men were so badly wounded one bled to death; and the other guy wandered up to the door for help, but bled out before he could find it.”

“Nice, real pleasant stuff there,” the character replied.

“I try to have a happy ending, but sometimes the story doesn’t warrant it.”

“Did you eat a lot of glue when you were a kid?”

“No. I just have an over-active imagination,” I replied.

“By the way, those werewolves were a bit much. Don’t you think?”

“I’m just trying to think outside the box.”

The character looked himself up and down once he was finished. “What do you think?”

“You’re no Clint Eastwood, but you’ll do.”

“Thanks for the confidence.”

“So you do know who Clint Eastwood is?”

“I know a lot of stuff. Surprised how much I knew in the last story, but I just can’t remember my home,” the character replied.

“You’ll get there.”

“I guess I’m off then.”

“Yep, good luck.”

“Thanks,” the character replied, opening the door on a warm, dark, moonless night. Tumbleweed went rolling by as he stepped through the door and closed it. The door shut, and I was all alone again.

“What to do now?” I thought about it for a moment. I could take the car in for an oil change, take my son for a walk, make some lunch, maybe work on that blog post I have wanted . . . “Wait, I’m writing this. I thought I was thinking about it. Please, go on to the next chapter. Never mind me. I’m shutting it down now.”