Fanghunters (3 page)

The rest of the week was a frenzy of
venom withdrawal. He paced around the apartment in a hot fugue, desperate to
work out his next move. The venom cravings weren’t making it easy; they were
too strong, too hard, especially at night. His skin itched, his brain demanded
like a spoiled brat. The saving grace was that venom wasn’t readily available
as say booze or smack. In Chicago, it was easy to score an eight-ball of coke,
but vampire venom? That was a little more tricky.

He knew a place where he could get a fix,
though...

He was perched on the edge of his bed,
rubbing his upper arms, a chill coursing through him as the venom hunger bit
once more. He rocked back and forth, his mind urging him to make the trip.
Go
back across town to that basement. Knock on the door, say sorry you messed up,
you won’t do it again, just calm that itch...

It would be easy. Hey, if he said it nice
enough, the father might even give him a double dose. His eyes rolled to the
ceiling.
That would be nice...
He’d have to apologize to the guy he
cracked a bottle over too. Hopefully, he didn’t hold grudges...

He wiped his lips with the back of his
hand. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d managed by some stroke of good fortune to
get the hell outta there, and now he was contemplating going back? Was he crazy?
The cold truth was that he had nothing to get the hell outta there for. Dad and
Eddie were gone, nowhere to be found. Not a trace and he had no idea where to
find them. He had no cash, no job to go back to, and an irate landlord
demanding payment or it was cardboard city time. Maybe that basement was all he
had, maybe that was why he ended up there in the first place. The only refuge
for a loser like him. At least there he had a permanent home, a purpose, a
function. At least there was someone there who loved him. The Father. And at
least Dom loved him back. Well, the venom part at least. The venom destroyed
all the negative crap in his life, blotted over it like a kid with a crayon. He
didn’t know how long he could last living with the itch and nothing else going
on in his life.

He flopped back on his bed and sighed,
rubbing his hot eyes. All the while, that itch was gnawing away at him.
Go
back there. Just go back, there’s nothing for you here. The Father needs you.
He wants you. He loves you. Just go and wash the pain away, take the itch away.
Go back to where you were happy. Go back. Go back. Go back...

And never leave.

Dom’s eyes snapped open to a gloomy room.
He shot up to his feet and marched to the front door.

*****

Nightfall descended by the time he
reached the basement.

The whole journey he felt like a junkie
gagging for a fix. The edginess, the anxiety had engulfed him and he was biting
his nails, his eyes darting everywhere, taking in everything. He walked with a
purpose, his stride rapid and unflinching. It was the journey he’d made the
night he escaped but in reverse. Anticipation had been rising in his stomach
from the moment he left the apartment block. It had grown and blossomed the
closer he got to that basement. Entwined with it was a depressing resignation.
A sense of failure; he’d managed to break his binds, now his situation was so
desperate, he was willing to run and have them tied back on. He watched Chicago
pass by with heavy eyes.

At least I won’t have to worry about
anything...

I got nothing to live for anyways...

The bus dropped him off at Oakland, just as
a shower of rain began pounding the surrounding concrete. He trotted off down
the streets, hoping the Father wouldn’t be too angry with him. The degradation
greeted him like a brother; like Eddie would have if he could’ve found him.

No such luck, buddy. Eddie’s probably as
dead as you by now.

He turned onto Matheson, knowing that was
the street where the basement was. He passed by derelict homes, boarded up
windows, trash covered sidewalk. He stepped through it all, what was once a
thriving hub of life, now a dead zone of destitute poverty.

Man, what happened to this city?

I don’t care anymore. Not my problem.
It’s all over for me.

He stopped dead, and keeping his head
bowed, took in a deep breath of dirty air.

He was home. His real home. He slowly
turned his head to the side, to be greeted by the building that stood atop the
basement.
His
basement. His home...

He stepped up to the railings and took hold
of them; they were icy. He moved to the head of the steps leading down to that
basement and peered into the darkness below. He took a look around. The coast
was clear. Just a rain-swept, dirty street. He set off down the steps, his feet
scratching across the cement, the sound echoing all around him. The darkness
swallowed him once he reached the foot of the steps. He stood amongst the wet
trash, the sound of falling rain hammering all around him while he stared at
the door leading to the basement. He reached out a trembling hand for the
handle, hoping it wasn’t locked. It wasn’t. The door came open, releasing more
darkness from beyond. He became still, his heart stopping dead.

Once you go through this door, there’s
no turning back.

He closed his eyes, the venom cravings
fizzing behind his eyelids.

He nodded.
I know. I know...

Time to say goodbye to the world...

He threw his eyes open, then the door; it
swung away with a loud creak. He stood in the doorway, his chest puffed out,
his arms outstretched, the rain pounding down around him. His wide eyes took in
the whole scene, with the expectation of falling upon the Father and the other
fanghead, who’d welcome him home.

They searched the whole room. It was empty.

Dom’s jaw dropped.
No...

He stepped drunkenly  into the basement,
his head rolling in its socket. “Father?” he said in a loud voice. He was
answered by silence.

A familiar musk hit his nostrils and his
head began swimming. “Father!” he repeated, but his voice was wavering.

He threw out a hand, finding the light
switch. He flicked it on. The hollow chamber lit up in an instant. His pupils
adjusted. A horrible anti-climax set in, just like back in Bachman Road. He
looked around; the floor was smothered with the usual litter: hamburger cartons,
soda cups, torn remnants of old clothes. His eyes fell upon the old septic
tank. The Father’s crypt. He darted over to it, with an involuntary gasp. He
gripped its edges and looked into it, hope rising inside his chest. It all came
crashing down once he saw that it was empty. Crestfallen, he turned away and
faced the litter-strewn floor. He surveyed it with apathetic eyes. They were
gone. And so was his last chance...

Something by his feet caught his attention.
He frowned. He craned his neck in closer, then bent down on his haunches. He
stared down at the pieces of torn photo strewn over the ground. With a
trembling finger, he picked a piece up and held it to the light. Caught in the
section of torn photo was Dad; Dad’s smiling face in the sunshine. Something
then displaced the gnawing anxiety in Dom’s heart. Love. Love for Dad. His lips
trembled alongside his hand as he wiped a tear from his eye. Was he really
alone in this world? Where was Dad? Where was Eddie? He rummaged around,
finding more torn photo. He found pieces of Eddie. While he stared at his
smiling brother, his fingers fell upon the dog tag hanging around his neck.
Somewhere, somewhere out there Eddie had a similar tag around his neck.
Brothers.

Where are you, little guy? Where are
you?

He suddenly gripped the dog tag tight, just
as more tears squeezed from between his eyelids. 

He got back to his apartment once more,
weariness and dejection usurping the venom cravings. He opened the door to find
a letter lying on the doormat. Dom picked it up and checked the front. Written
on it in hard block capitals was: ‘MR DOMINIC DEMPSEY’. Dom opened it up and
removed the letter. He knew straight away it was something angry. ‘NOTICE OF
EVICTION’ it read.

And it didn’t get any better.

‘
To Mr. Dominic Dempsey. Notice is
hereby given that you are in default in payment of rent. You are hereby required
to pay the amount of rent due, or to leave the premises within seven (7) days
after the service of this notice.

Failure to pay the full amount of rent
in arrears will result in an eviction detainer lawsuit filed with the County
Court.

Yours sincerely, Christopher Cushing
(Landlord).
’

Dom threw his head back and groaned. That
was all he needed. Suddenly, he didn’t know where to turn. There was no family
to go back to, and now there wasn’t even any venom to go back to either. And
soon, he’d have no home.

He trudged back into his lounge and looked
around, lightheaded. He didn’t have any readily available cash money that he
knew of. His memory was so mashed, he could have a swag bag full of diamonds
stuffed beneath the floorboards and he wouldn’t even know it. As far as he was
concerned, he had a few bills in his wallet and that was all.

He collapsed onto his sofa, an exhausted
heap. Confusion and fear reigned in his mind.
What the hell is happening?
What have I done to deserve this, man? What?

He sat up on the sofa and stared at the
blank TV. His tired expression faced him.
What do I do? What do I do?

Then a thought surfaced from the chaotic
soup in his mind.

There must be others, dude. I mean other
people like you who were or are victims of vamps.

Dom nodded. Yeah, there was that other
fanghead in the basement. The one he smashed with an empty bottle.

No, others. People who’ve escaped from
them. People like you. Maybe networking is the only place left. Maybe they can
help you.

Dom sighed. “Okay, but how am I gonna find
them?” he asked the empty room.

The answer hit him in an instant. He
clicked his fingers, got up and grabbed the laptop sitting on the coffee table.
He flicked it on. He went straight to Google and typed in ‘vampire’. He got 1.2
million hits.

No, dummy. You gotta be more specific
than that. Try ‘vampire escapees’.

Okay...

He typed it in. Google asked him if he
meant ‘vampire escape’.

He sighed.
Man, I was never any good at
this Internet stuff. Eddie was the geeky one.

Then, a sudden realization dawned on him.
If there really were other ex-fangheads out there, they wouldn’t wanna freely
advertise it on the web. There was a personal safety issue at play. Hey, maybe
vampires use the Internet too, you never know...

He remembered Eddie showing him something,
a trick to get to parts of the web known as the deep web, the
dark
web.
Eddie said that was where all the crazy stuff was, and where you could get
anything you wanted. You could only get to it with something called a proxy
browser, which masked your identity, meaning you could surf the dark web
anonymously; the only way you were able to.

You can betcha bottom dollar that’s
where the ex-fangheads are, buddy...

Dom got to work. He installed the software
he needed to mask his IP, recalling the instructions Eddie showed him. He
brought up the proxy server, which gave him access to the deep web. And then,
in the blink of an eye, the truly weird stuff was all available. He managed to
get a list of encrypted web addresses from a proxy search engine after typing
in ‘vampire escapees’.
Screw Google.
After a brief bit of surfing, he
found a plain text message board on a black background where random people were
openly discussing all the strange things out there. Alien encounters, secret
service surveillance, mind control victims, strange creature sightings.
Werewolves, zombies, yetis. And another sub heading read: vampires. Dom
immediately clicked it. With baited breath, the page loaded. Up flicked a list
of messages with replies. Dom scanned them.

HELP!! ADDICTED TO VENOM! CAN’T GET AWAY!
HELP!!!

GOT JABBED BY A VAMPIRE LAST NIGHT, NOW
WANT MORE!!!111

VAMPIRE ICED ME. I NOW THINK I’M IN LOVE...

Dom’s eyes lit up. His head spun like
Beetlejuice
.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He scrolled down, the messages and
replies went on and on.

VAMPIRE BIT ME.

VAMP ATTACK.

EX-VENOM ADDICT.

He wasn’t alone...

Relief bombed in his heart like an anvil;
it mushroomed up his lungs and escaped out of his mouth in a satisfied gasp. He
grabbed his head and ran his hands through his hair.

An excited chuckle escaped him.
I can’t
believe it. Where the hell did all this come from?

This stuff was hidden form the mainstream
consciousness. It lay under the surface like a bubbling geyser, always there,
never a threat, but just waiting to explode.
Maybe...

His fingers sprang into life, ready to get
to work networking and putting all the emotions down for the others to see, to
get it all out. His fingertips touched the keys, and then he stopped dead.
Another thread caught his eye: WHY DON’T SOME1 JUST KILL THESE MOFOS? Dom
clicked the link, the first reply read:
Yeah, where’s Van Helsing when you
need him? I’d clean out my wallet for that guy’s help.

To which, someone replied:
He’s prolly
busy sleeping, just like the rest of society...

And with that, something else now dropped
into his mind, taking things on a step further from where he was currently at.

How about hunters, buddy?
his mind threw up to him
. If all these guys are here
complaining, there may even be hunters by now...       

Dom leant back.
Hunters?
he
contemplated, rubbing his chin.

Yeah, the old Van Helsing character. Like a
hitman but focusing on vampires.

Then another delicious notion swirled in
his consciousness.
Hey, buddy, maybe you could...
become one yourself.
Earn a few bucks taking these things down. You know, create a niche market
for yourself, get you out of debt. How about that for an idea?

Dom nodded. It sounded great. Meant he
could make some cash while helping these other guys out. He knew how they felt.
The loneliness, the helplessness, the fact no one would believe you. You
existed on the fringes of society, in the dark part, the underbelly; the dark
web. No one to talk to, no one to understand you. All cause of vampires,
creatures of the night and their addictive venom. Dom’s heart went out to every
one of the victims who were reaching out on this bizarre message board. And he
wanted to help them all.

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing to lose now. I
wanna help. And I’m gonna.”

He got back to work.

He now searched for classifieds.
Specifically weird, bizarre classifieds. Soon, he found himself on another
plain text site with obligatory black background, the white text glowing like
phantasms. On it were various ads: weird dating, strange requests. There was an
advert for an exorcist, another seeking an expert in voodoo, and another
looking for a hitman. Someone else needed a curse lifted. Dom shook his head.
Then, something caught his eye. In capital letters:

VAMPIRE HUNTER NEEDED. DISCRETION
ESSENTIAL.

Excellent
reimbursement guaranteed to right candidate.

Bingo!

Dom leant back and rubbed his hands. “Excellent
reimbursement, huh?”

That means lots of money, buddy.

Yeah, I know that, thanks.

But, can you handle it, this early?

He puffed his cheeks and looked around his
lounge. “I’ll have to handle it. Otherwise, it’s cardboard city for me.”

Then, you know what to do.

Dom nodded his head and clicked ‘send
message’.