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Episode 057 |
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“My boy, we’re pilgrims in an unholy land.” Dr. Henry Jones, Alex sat at the outside tables of a café, watching as
the people walked by. In front of him,
a journal and a sketchpad laid unattended while his coffee had ceased
steaming. He watched the sparse crowds
of the small city walk along the narrow Scandinavian streets. He picked up
his notepad and began to scribble down notes. “Find anything good?” Isaiah asked, sitting down next
to Alex. Stirring a cup of coffee, he
faced away, almost as if ignoring Alex. “Tracking the locals,” Alex said, writing as if paying
attention to the local architecture.
“Thisted had the first documented case of AIDS. JP Jacobsen was also from here.” “So’s Junior Senior,” Isaiah countered. “What of it?” “Whatever the quiet little Danish town image they’re
trying to create,” Alex contended, “there’s a subculture here which is going
to be our best bet in tracking down the clan.” “So why don’t we go to the local dance clubs and start
there?” Isaiah asked. “Subtlety for one,” Alex said, continuing to
write. “Also…” He focused on the notepad for a
second. “The only one of us fluent in
Danish is one of the people we’re trying to rescue.” Emma stood over the white cardboard box, flipping
through the comic books. In plastic
bags with cardboard backs, she quickly surveyed the titles and numbers. After a moment, she sighed and looked up on
the wall at the posters of assorted comic book heroes and titles. Jason came up next to her, several titles in hand. “I’m ready,” he said with a childish grin. Emma immediately opened up the row of comics and pulled
out one title. Jason’s eyes spread
wide. “Incredible Hulk 277?!” he said. “I know!” Emma giggled, unable to keep from jumping up
and down. “I mean, it’s in Danish, but
still. This is it!” “Come on,” Jason said, grabbing it and adding it to his
collection. “Well, wait,” Emma implored hesitantly. Jason stopped as she glanced around the
almost empty comic book shop, then reached under the wooden tables to the
white books beneath it. She laid
another comic down on top of the small stack in Jason’s arms. Jason looked down at it, then at Emma. “Bondage Fairies?” Emma’s cheeks began to burn. “Leave me alone,” she disputed. Jason smiled and headed towards the back where the
bored guy at the counter sat. He stood
up as Jason placed the comics on the counter with a giant smile. The man quickly rang them up, giving Jason
a rough look about the most recently added title, then grinned. “ “<I am now, >” Jason said in poor Danish, handing
the man the money. As the man accepted
it with a grateful smile, Jason’s hand brushed up against his. In blurry, smoky images, Jason saw the man buying a
comic from a young boy. He was sitting at a table, bills spread on the
checkered tablecloth, staring with a worried look. He was in the park, feeding the birds. He was handing a bag of occult magazines to another
man. The man accepting the magazines wasn’t human. Jason smiled at the guy, accepting his change, then his
comics. “<Thank you very much,
>” he said. “No problemo,” the man said with another grin. Jason and Emma headed out. As soon as they were beyond the front of
the store, Emma turned to Jason.
“Well?” she asked. “Somebody came in there that wasn’t human,” Jason
said. “That’s all I know for sure.” Emma faced forward, walking with grim
determination. “It’s a start.” Til walked in first.
The broad-shouldered German got everyone’s attention in the bar. He scowled at all of them, then headed to
the center of the bar. Eliot followed
behind him, getting glared at by the others.
As a football highlights show broadcast over the handful of TVs in the
corners, Til sat down, making the other patrons at the bar move quasi-subtly
away. The bartender approached. He spread his hands on the bar surface and
smiled falsely at Til. “<What would
you like? >” “<Do you speak a real language? >” Til asked in
German. The bartender just blinked. “Speak English?” he asked with a smile as
Eliot stayed back, his hands in his pockets. “I do,” the bartender said with a thick accent. “What can I get for you and your friend?” “We want to know about anything that came through here
the other night,” Til asked. “There
was a big plane crash not too far away.
We’re interested in anyone with any information.” “You police?” the bartender asked. Til smiled again.
“Would it matter?” “We spoke to police,” the bartender insisted, leaning
back as he crossed his thick arms.
“Nothing happened.” Til looked at Eliot.
“I say we…” Eliot began. Before
he could finish his sentence, Til’s powerful hand grabbed the bartender by
the hair and slammed his face into the bar.
In a flash of motion, Til had his pistol out, jammed into the barman’s
temple. “We’re not police,” Til said succinctly. “We’re also not from around here and we’re
inclined to disappear. But depending
on what you say in the next several seconds will decide whether or not we
live in peace or leave you in pieces.” Eliot glanced back at the bar, watching all the patrons
staring on in horror. Til pressed the
gun harder. “Now’s the time to save
your life.” “Okay!” the bartender exclaimed. Til jerked him up by his collar and yanked
him over the bar with one hand.
Lifting him up and practically choking him, Til shoved the thick gun
into the man’s jaw. “There were
trucks!” the man shrieked quickly.
“Three trucks. Not big,
but…but…not…normal. They drove
through. We saw them, but we didn’t
think anything of them.” “Did they drive back through?” Eliot asked. The barman blinked at him, confused. “Did you see them again?” Til insisted. “No!” the barman shrieked. “They either passed on or stopped somewhere,” Eliot
concluded. Til
nodded and lowered the barman. “You’ve
been very helpful,” he said before turning and heading out. Once
outside in the daylight, Eliot looked at Til.
“Was that necessary?” “Fun
things rarely are,” he countered, the two heading off. Isaiah stood on the slanted rooftop, his rifle slung
over his shoulder. He looked around in
the blowing wind, then touched his hand to his ear. “You guys sure about this?” Down below, Jason and Emma walked slowly towards the
entrance of a small apartment building.
“I tracked the scent of Jason’s nonhuman here,” Emma said
casually. She looked in a glass
storefront, able to see Alex’s reflection far behind at the corner of the street. “Are you ready, Alex?” “We’re go,” he said, his hand in his trench coat
pocket, around the handle of his pistol. Emma opened the door to the apartment building, finding
a staircase that led up to the second floor along with four apartment doors
immediately before her. She looked
around and took a deep breath. She
looked up the stairs. “Up there.” Jason went up first, with Emma following him. He brushed his black hair out of the way,
then stepped back as Emma approached the first door. She lingered before it, her hand out. She pointed at the door, curious, then
looked at the door to the left. She
stared at it, then walked to the door, knocking without hesitation. There was no reaction. Emma knocked again, but her hand lingered. She looked at the door with worry. “This door is guarded,” she said. “It is?” Jason said, looking from Emma to the
door. He put his hand on the door,
then pulled it away as if burned.
“Alex,” he asked quietly into his earpiece, “we’re looking at the
top-left apartment. Can you tell me
what the windows look like?” “They’re blocked,” he said. “Pretty sure those are curtains.” “They’re shutters,” Isaiah corrected. “You sure?” Alex asked. “I’m not even gracing that with a response,” the sniper
returned. Jason turned to Emma and nodded. She closed her eyes, taking another
breath. When she opened them again,
they glowed with inner power. She held
out her hand, sending the door crashing into the apartment. For Jason, time slowed.
He could hear the rush of the air as the door went cascading
inside. He heard the motion of
reaction. It moved faster than he
could perceive. Jason rushed into the apartment, moving ahead of the
thrown door. As time continued to drip
aside, he rushed into the living room where the sofa was being thrown
up. Beneath it, a casket was
opening. Inside, a man that appeared
to be in his mid-twenties was stepping out.
He saw Jason and panicked. Jason rushed to him, drawing out his pistol. He leveled the gun against the vampire’s
head; time instantly crashing back to normal.
“Don’t move!” he ordered, his finger on the trigger. The
door slammed to the ground. |
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