No Man's Land (6 page)

Kelly shook her head and pushed the memories down, locking them safely away. That was a long time ago, and she wasn’t about to let herself dwell on her short life as a human. Right now the water was warm, and even though it wasn’t as hot as she would have liked, Kelly was grateful.

All too soon, she shut off the shower and climbed out, regarding herself in the mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door as she dried off. Under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, the bruises all over her body took on a greenish–purple glow. They should have vanished days ago, along with the scabs where she’d apparently been dragged across the pavement. Slowly she turned, cataloging injuries that she thankfully had no recollection of receiving.

“Well, you’re no beauty queen, but at least everything is functioning,” Kelly told her reflection.

Melody had been absolutely thorough in her collections. There was shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, toothbrush and toothpaste, comb and brush, and soap, as well as washcloths and towels. Beside the sink was a deodorant stick and a small tube of lipstick.

The clothes Melody had stacked on the sofa were big, but at least they were clean. A wave of dizziness hit Kelly as she rolled up the cuffs and rolled down the waist band. Time to go. It was too much to hope for that she could find someone to feed on now — a drunk in a dark alley who wouldn’t scream too much as she slashed his throat. If not, Kelly hoped to at least find a promising spot to return to after dark.

She slipped on her bloodstained flats and grimaced. Not exactly good shoes for hunting prey. She’d need to find a belt somewhere, and some sneakers or boots. Digging in her black skirt, Kelly found a twenty–dollar bill she’d stuck in her pocket, what seemed like years ago, back at the casino. She caught her breath. If that was still in her skirt, then maybe. . .. She practically ripped the waistband trying to shove her fingers in the little pocket. With a sigh of relief she touched hard metal, felt the welcome pain as it burned her fingertips.

It was silly to be fighting for her survival and worried about a ring she couldn’t even wear. She pulled it from the pocket and put it on the table, sucking her burned fingers. Plain silver, covered with frayed clear tape. Silly, but losing the ring would be like losing a part of herself — the only part that hadn’t become a selfish unfeeling monster.

With a deep breath, Kelly turned her back on the ring and went back to searching her skirt pockets. No identification. Of course if the police ever questioned her, identification would be the least of her problems.

The lack of money was a concern. She’d need more than twenty dollars if she was going to survive long enough for her family to return for her. Oh the irony to have several million in embezzled money stashed away up in New Jersey that she dare not access. They may have tossed her into a trailer in West Virginia, but she’d be a fool if she thought for one second they weren’t watching her. If they caught her transferring money and followed the account trail, she’d be dead before she could find an ATM. So twenty dollars it was. That was all she had to her name. Better make it last as long as she could.

Not trusting the pockets in the baggy borrowed pants, she stuck the bill in her tattered bra and made her way out of the trailer, carefully looking to make sure none of the pesky neighboring humans were lying in wait for her. She’d do some scouting around, some reconnaissance during the daylight hours then she’d venture back out at night.

The trailer Kelly left was raised above the ground on cement blocks; a weathered wooden porch and steps rested on top of brown grass. A dirt parking area was right next to the steps, which led the thirty feet to a gravel road. She could see Melody’s trailer about fifty yards off to the right, and the edge of another trailer beyond that, half hidden by the trees. There was a similar line of trailers to the left of hers. Behind the trailers stood a dense wooded area with no signs of human habitation through the winter–bare trees. Tall grass and briars in a field lay on the other side of the gravel road. In the near distance were gently sloped mountains, still green even in November, and criss–crossed with scars from the high–voltage electrical line right–of–way. Kelly raised her head and carefully sniffed the air. Fresh water lay a few–hundred yards away —there was no hint of the saltwater smell she’d grown accustomed to.

No humans were in the vicinity, although there was still that lingering old–ham smell as well as the aroma of various mammals, and exhaust fumes from ahead in the distance. Nothing smelled of vampire. She couldn’t even make out lingering traces of those that had brought her here. A pang of loneliness speared through her, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Kelly walked down the gravel road heading toward the car exhaust fumes. She might as well keep her eyes open for useful roadside trash. Anything she could find might help her survive, and would be one item less that she’d have to spend her meager twenty dollars on.

Grabbing a plastic grocery store bag caught on a briar bush, she looked around.
Shame there aren’t any size–two pants, or a nice pair of Nike’s,
she thought.
Or a fresh bag of blood.

There were no clothes or hundred–dollar bills, but by the time she’d reached the road, Kelly had found a bungee cord and an empty plastic water bottle. The road before her was two lanes wide with shoulders on either side. She glanced north then south wondering which way led to the nearby town. A sign at the corner of the gravel road indicated she lived on Briar Lane. Kelly sniffed, but the smell was pretty much the same either way. She shrugged and turned left.

She felt odd walking down the shoulder of a country road in ill–fitting, cheap clothing, gathering cast off items in a plastic bag like a homeless person.
How quickly I’ve fallen
, Kelly thought with wry amusement.
Pretty much back where I started as a human.

A slightly bent ten–penny nail, a nearly full spool of steel wire, about a foot of quarter–inch zinc–coated chain, two wire hangers, and many pieces of nylon baling cord all went into her bulging plastic bag. She’d also managed to collect fifty cents in change. Sheesh, she was like a bag lady, delighting in her discovered riches. Or some kind of vampire McGyver. A cut up wire hanger, ends from a bungee cord, and voila! Instant fangs. She laughed, envisioning herself with bits of wire protruding from her mouth. What a ridiculous idea. She was obviously starting to go loopy from hunger.

The bushes off to the side of the road rustled, and Kelly paused, frowning. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the noise. Initially, she’d thought it was a squirrel, but whatever it was seemed to be following her. The vampire hesitated, trying to remember what wild animals there were in West Virginia. Bear? Wolf? Coyote? What animal would be stupid enough to stalk
her? An animal that wants to be dead
, she thought as she continued walking.

About two miles down she saw a roadside bar with a neon sign proclaiming it was “Dale’s”. Kelly walked through the deserted parking lot to find the door locked. Where there were restaurants, though, there were humans. This would be an ideal place for her to return to tonight and satisfy her desperate need for blood.

Slinging the plastic bag over her shoulder, Kelly walked around to the rear of the building, scoping out the best place to lurk and pounce on a victim once the sun had set. A huge dumpster sat just outside the barred back door of the bar. Clearly the owners cut corners on their collection service. The thing was overflowing and stank to high heaven. She would have strung her staff up by their toes if they’d allowed the refuse to get to this state in her casino.
Not that it’s my casino anymore
, she thought ruefully, shaking her head.

A dumpster like this would attract all sorts of vermin. Yep, she smelled rats. Lots of rats. Some buried down deep in the dumpster, and others holed up for the day somewhere inside the building. Yuck. The very thought disgusted her, but her body desperately needed fresh blood. Fresh, not that frozen old–cow stuff from the steaks.

It was definitely on her agenda to grab a human tonight, but maybe there was something here that could hold her off. With a bitter laugh, Kelly contemplated dumpster diving for rats. The metal container was old and rusted. With her luck, she’d find herself covered in stinky garbage and the rats would escape to safety through some hole. Still, her need for blood was desperate. She wasn’t sure she could wait for nightfall. Just when she was about to climb into the dumpster, she saw the squirrel.

It was thin and scrawny with a dull, mangy coat. It was probably diseased. Kelly wrinkled her nose in distaste, but she proceeded to kneel down, trying to slowly edge towards it. The animal took one glance at her and bolted into the woods.

Great. She couldn’t even manage to catch and eat a sickly squirrel. Not that she really wanted to. Kelly shuddered, imagining how nasty and tainted the blood would be, if there was more than a mouthful in the thing. It was probably anemic from fleas. Did squirrels even get fleas? Kelly shook her head to clear it. She was so hungry her mind was wandering all over the place.

Every thought since she’d awoken in the trailer had been on survival. Now the reality of her situation rushed at her. She was alone in an unknown place contemplating drinking blood from a diseased squirrel she couldn’t bite even if she
had
managed to catch it.

She couldn’t feed properly — would
never
be able to again. How long could she go stabbing humans before one got away and made a police report? Or until the human cops traced a series of grisly attacks back to her doorstep? She’d need to constantly be on the move, and there weren’t many places to go. The enemy vampires were to the south, and she couldn’t go back into her family’s lands unless asked. West Virginia wasn’t a big state. She’d eventually be caught by humans, by some roving vampire spy, or by werewolves.

And beyond that, she was alone. The old fears from her human life crept back. No one would help her; there was no one to turn to. Kelly had to completely rely on herself for survival, and she doubted she had the skills or strength to make it alone.

Covering her face with her hands, she leaned backward against the rough brick of the building and slid down it to the ground, tears wetting her fingers. The sound of birdsong and the scrabble of climbing squirrels mixed with the ever–present rustling sound from the wooded area next to the smelly dumpster. It gave a strange accompaniment to Kelly’s sobs. Curling into a ball, she rocked herself, trying to fight the feelings of fear and loneliness.

George. She thought of his strong arms and lopsided grin. If only he were here now, but George was long dead. She’d gone with the vampires, made her choice. They were her family— she just had to find a way back to them, to do something to prove her worth so they’d bring her back. They hadn’t killed her; they must be planning to collect her after an appropriate punishment period.

Finally she gulped the tears back down, wiping her eyes and nose on the rolled–up sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt. When she’d left her humanity behind to become a vampire, she’d mourned. She’d need to mourn her fall from grace too. Even if her family did eventually come for her, she’d be back to menial labor for decades, centuries even. Could she do that? Go back to being everybody’s whipping post? It would be like her human life all over again.

Kelly stood and clenched her jaw in determination. Whipping post was better than dead. She’d need to survive until they came for her. What else could she do, a lone vampire in hostile territory, squeezed between two powerful families?

Kelly thought of the silver fillet knife back in her trailer. If things got too bad, at least she had an option to slow death by starvation. But, it was no time to stand here, tear stained and thinking negative thoughts. Time to keep collecting useless, stray items then head back to her trailer and hope to channel the spirit of MacGyver. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that there was at least one drunk wandering outside this bar tonight that no one would miss.

Kelly scoped out the parking lot in a grid pattern, excited to find another five dollars in change and a ten–dollar bill. Evidently, inebriated humans regularly spilled money from their pockets and purses. She also picked up a plastic packet with a handful of large metal washers in it, and another bungee cord.

The noise of car tires on gravel. Kelly looked up to see a small pick–up truck pulling into the bar area.

“Can I help you?” a man asked as he pulled alongside her. His pleasant tone ended abruptly once he got within a few feet. His red nose lifted, and his lip curled up in a snarl visible even through his dark brown beard.

A human, and she was starving. Kelly resisted the urge to jump on him and rip his throat out with her bare hands. Now was not the time, especially with the man clearly suspicious and on alert. Getting mowed over by his truck as she tried to throttle him wasn’t a good plan. So instead, pushing the thoughts away, she tried to smile.

“I dropped something the other night and walked back to look for it. I live just up the road,” she said. Her voice came out slurred and puffy from her swollen mouth. It took effort to articulate properly.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said briskly. “Your kind isn’t welcome here. Get on back home before any of the others see you around. They won’t be half as charitable as me.”

What was with this stupid state? Leaning closer, Kelly felt a blast of warm from the truck heater — and caught the man’s scent. She froze, and her urge to eat him changed to an urge to run. He smelled of smoked ham mingled with an odd canine note. That’s what the faint smell from back in the trailer area was. Werewolves. Panic seized her heart. They had to have been everywhere for their scent to be so strong. They were probably living right on the same street as her trailer. She’d never met a werewolf. None had ever been foolish enough to walk into a vampire–owned casino.

Crap. Evidently she was smack in the middle of their territory — solo, injured, with nowhere else to go. How the heck was she going to be able to hunt human prey with a werewolf pack nearby, and that freckled woman, the modern–day Van Helsing, watching her every move?