The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis -- Part Four

Serial time, kids!

Here is the fourth installment of my web serial. Action! Adventure! Monsters and Magic and Mayhem!

Enjoy,
LLH


Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"
By L.L. Heberlein
(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER FOUR:

I had no idea where to start looking for this thing. Or even what I was looking for.

I hit Tacoma much faster than anticipated.

Traffic slowed on the outskirts of town and crept along into the city as I made my way through downtown toward the waterfront. The shipping center was easy enough to find. A high metal fence topped with barbed wired surrounded a series of warehouses and large shipping containers stacked like colorful blocks on top of each other.

I kept driving, circling the block a few times before I found just the right dark alley to park in. It meant walking a few blocks, which was perfect. Call it an underworld habit or something, but I like to give the illusion that I appear out of nowhere. Besides, you never want to let them know where you parked your car. There’s safety in paranoia.

The night was cold and damp, perfect for fog. I walked through the dark and appeared like a specter in the light of a street lamp. I tried my best to glide through the parking lot, using years of practice in making no noise. I walked through the door and stepped up to the counter. It took the man a few minutes to look up from his little computer screen and notice me. He jumped.

“Dammit,” he wheezed. “Did NOT see you there.” He gasped for breath and clutched his big barrel of a chest with one meaty hand. The man was big – six foot something and overweight. His frizzy red hair was tied back in a long ponytail and his unkempt red beard made him look like a Viking. He turned his attention to me, trying to make up for lost professionalism. He sized me up for a moment, taking in my dead-guy complexion and all-black apparel. Drawing the obvious incorrect conclusion, he straightened. If he were a dog, I’d say you could see his hackles rise. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to pick up a package,” I said, and handed him a signed slip of paper that Clara had given me.

He looked down at the slip of paper, back up at me, down at the paper again, and then dialed the phone next to him. It sounded like he was using a sort of code instead of actual words. “Twenty three. Yes. No. Twenty three and then fourteen. No. Fourteen and fifteen then. Yes. Thanks.” He hung up the phone and looked down at the slip of paper again. “Is this your name here?”

“No,” I answered. “That’s my employer’s name. She signed the slip, and asked me to pick it up.”

“Have you got identification?”

I raised an eyebrow. I had identification, but I didn’t feel like flashing it. “What’s the problem?”

He stood from his desk. He was taller than I’d estimated, pushing seven feet tall. He leaned toward me, placing both hands on the counter. “There’s no problem. I just need to see some ID. Standard procedure.”

I handed it over with a sigh and he snatched it from my hand. Both of us were growing impatient. He copied everything, every date and number and bit of information, even something on the back which I figured was inconsequential. Handing it back to me, he said, “Just a minute or two. Why don’t you have a seat over there?”

He gestured toward two very hard plastic chairs against the wall. I took my seat, crossed my legs, and waited.

There are only so many hours in the day for me. More so in the winter, when the sun rises late and sets early. But, still, I am limited as to how much I can get done in a day. Imagine if you had to lie immobile for all daylight hours, and see just how valuable your time becomes. Time ticked away on the old wall-mounted office clock across from me. Eleven twenty. Eleven twenty-five. Eleven thirty. By eleven forty-five I was done waiting and ready to jump behind the counter and find the package myself.

I stood at the counter, and it took a minute for the guy to notice I’d moved from my chair. He jumped again. “Jezuz!” he said.

“What’s the holdup?” I asked, then noticed the clipped-on name tag on his shirt. “Edward.”

Edward’s eyes shot open. “How did you…?”

I pointed toward his chest, and he gave an “Oh” as he saw his name printed there. “Right. We’ll, see. It’s like this. We have the package, but there’s a moratorium on it. I can’t release it to you until tomorrow.”

I looked at the wall clock. “So, what? Like, fifteen minutes from now?”

“No, ‘fraid not,” Edward said. “It’s the twenty-four hour kind. This package came in a crate from China, and we’ve got all this paperwork and shi… stuff. We have it, but we can’t give it to you. I mean, not yet.”

“Then why did you make me wait? Are you giving me the runaround, Edward?” I turned up the charm, feeding into his notion that I was what he thought I was. Sometimes it helps to come across as a vamp. I even avoided smiling at him with all my teeth showing, hoping he’d think I was hiding some fangs.

Edward swallowed hard. “Look,” he said. “I’m just doing my job, okay? I’d love nothing more than to hand this thing over to you, really I would. It’s just that I can’t, see? I was told… I just can’t. So come back tomorrow, okay? Come back then, and we’ll see if we can’t work things out.”

I glared at him. “But Edward,” I said. I was betting he didn’t go by Edward. This guy was definitely an Ed or Eddie. “I need it now. Tonight.”

Eddie glared back. Maybe he didn’t like getting bossed around by pale-faced scrappy looking vampires. “Can’t. Sorry.”

I wasn’t ready to give up, but I wasn’t prepared to take Eddie on. I’m strong -- supernaturally strong. But Eddie had the size advantage on me. When it came down to it, I didn’t think I could beat him without doing some serious damage, and Eddie didn’t deserve that. He was just trying to do his job, like me.

We stared each other down for a moment. The tension built, and I almost thought Eddie was going to jump the counter himself. After a long pause, he spoke. “Look, I could have it delivered. Tomorrow. During the day. Would that do?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “I need it tonight.”

There was another tense moment of not talking. “Let me call my manager,” Eddie said. He picked up the phone and dialed a number without looking. “Yes, sir. This is Ed. Yes, I have that twenty three here still. No…. yes, I understand. Fourteen and fifteen….. Yes, that’s what I said. No, he didn’t. Yes. Yes. Okay, I understand. Thank you.”

He didn’t take his eyes off of me the entire time he spoke. When he finally put the phone down, he was seething. “Look, buddy. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re shit out of luck tonight, got it?”

I sighed. “Ed, I’m just trying to do my job. Just like you. I’m not sure what this thing is, but I need it. Right away. Or I’m more than shit out of luck, got it?”

“No!” he shouted. “No, I’m not doing this! I’m not getting involved in your freaky underworld politics and shit. If you’ve got shit on your side, I’m sorry. But I can’t help you out, man.”

I sighed again, and nodded. I was getting nowhere with this guy, and he was right. He didn’t need to get involved in this. I left as quietly as I came, and made sure to  walk all the way out of the lit parking lot and into the dark roadway before turning around and coming up the back of the building. I hopped from shadow to shadow as I made my way around the edge of the fence and found the back entry. There were security cameras there, I’m sure, but I couldn’t see where. I don’t have that mystical vampire ability to make myself invisible for cameras, but I can move very, very slowly.

I slunk along in the shadows, moving inch by inch,  so as not to draw any attention. I stayed hidden as much as I could until I made it all the way to the loading dock. The big loading door was closed, but I could see light pouring out from under the crack at the bottom. I tried the door to the side entrance, and was surprised when it came open. The warehouse was huge and brightly lit, filled with boxes wrapped in white plastic and brown paper. I had no idea where to start looking for this thing. Or even what I was looking for. I had a plan, though. I read the numbers on the large stacking shelves until I came to aisle twenty three. I made my way down the row, looking for sections fourteen and fifteen. Everything was nicely labeled, so it didn’t take long to find the section. Right in the spot between the numbers fifteen and fourteen sat a wooden crate, about five feet across, with rusted metal hinges and a latch that had been opened. As I put my hand on the crate, I had this feeling of foreboding.  I wasn’t supposed to open this chest, I thought. Whatever lay inside wasn’t meant for me.

But this had to be it. Whatever was inside, this was the thing I was supposed to deliver.

I opened the chest.

Darkness rushed out. A swirl of flapping wings surrounded me, lifting me up and slamming me against the opposite shelf. Tiny teeth nipped at me, tearing little bits from my leather jacket and jeans. Pin-pricks appeared along my hands as needle-sharp teeth bit into me. I screamed, and tried to brush them off. I rolled across the ground, swatting at my face and arms. They were everywhere. Little black creatures with slapping wings and sharp teeth. Bats with demon faces. And they laughed as I struck out at them. They laughed, and the kept coming.

I rose to my feet and ran as fast as I could for the door I’d entered. I reached it, turned the knob, and nothing. The door wouldn’t budge.

Then the lights went out.

Everything around me became squeaking and flapping darkness. I swatted at the air, trying to keep the things from gouging my eyes out. I hit one and grabbed it in my hand. I made a fist and squeezed. The thing let out a high-pitched squeal as it crunched under my fingers. I let it fall to the floor and the other creatures seemed to squeal even louder.

I ducked my head, using my jacket to shield my face, as I tried to move in between the shelves. I couldn’t remember seeing another door or entrance, except the large garage door of the loading dock. If I could make my way over there, maybe I’d be able to lift it and slide under. Maybe there’d be a button or switch of some kind to raise it. Maybe.

Or maybe I was out of luck.

A rumbling came from the other side of the warehouse. It started of low, and then grew in strength as the vibration rolled toward me. I grabbed hold of the nearest shelf as the room shook. Still in the dark, I couldn’t see what was falling around me, I only felt the boxes hit me, bashing my head. I fell on the ground hard. I’m sure a living person would have been knocked out. Something heavy covered me, which kept the flapping little bat demons away for a moment. I stayed under the heavy container as the rumbling continued. A wave of fear ran through me as everything around me swayed and rumbled. Then I heard a sound, like a hundred little paws clicking to a stop. I heard breathing, and growling, and then the sound of wood and metal being torn apart.

I lay there, too afraid to move as pieces of whatever it was that covered me were ripped away. Shreds of wood and metal slapped at me as everything was torn to pieces. There was a moment there in the dark when I dared to lift my head and look.

All I could see were bright red eyes. Hundreds of them.

Then the claws hit me. They tore at my leather jacket. I wriggled out of it, letting them have it. I backed up as fast as I could, and hit a metal wall with a rattling thud. The garage door! I dropped to the floor and felt for a latch or an edge… anything I could move to lift the door open. Claws raked at my arms, tearing my shirts into shreds of cloth. Something growled right next to my head. Teeth sank into my leg. I screamed, and just at the moment, I felt the latch of the door in my hand. I wrenched it with all my might and the door rolled open. I slid out, taking whatever it was that had sunk its teeth into my leg with me. The door slammed shut behind us with a bang. We fell together down the ramp and into the brightly lit parking lot. The thing looked more like a monster than a dog. Hellhound, I thought, as I wrapped my hands around its neck. I squeezed as the thing clawed and fought me. I wrapped my legs around its lower body, and used all the strength in my arms to wrench its neck around.

I heard a crack. The thing let out a whelp, and then went limp. I scurried away from the body of the dead hound, not waiting for it to jump back to life. Hellhounds have  a way of doing that.

A loud bang came from the loading dock door. I could see dents forming in the metal as the other hounds threw themselves at the door, trying to punch through. I ran as fast as my torn-up legs would go, down the block and toward the alley with my car. I flew at the thing, grasped the car handle, and found it locked. My keys, I remembered, were in my jacket. The jacket, I remembered, was lying in the warehouse, probably torn apart. My keys were either there, or in some hellhound’s belly.

Well, shit. I crouched down in the alley, behind the car, and waited. I listened, but the noise from the banging of the metal door was gone. Eerie silence crept over everything as I waited for something, anything, to rush after me. But there was nothing. Only silence as I crouched by the car, waiting. After a few minutes a car came by. The driver must have seen me, because it slowed. Headlights shone on me, revealing a pale, dead-looking man wearing ripped-up clothing. The car sped away.

I decided it was best to get out of the light. I found the nearest shelter, a metal Dumpster, and climbed in. It was filled with cardboard from disassembled boxes. There was very little odor to it, except for damp cardboard. It was the nicest Dumpster I’d ever jumped into.

I lay there for a moment and assessed my situation. Car locked. Keys, probably in the warehouse somewhere. No way of getting home otherwise. And no package. I had no choice. I had to go back to the warehouse. If I couldn’t find the package, I at least had to get the keys and return the car. Had to. Or I’d be out the job money, owe her one very nice BMW 3 Series, which I could never afford, and have failed her completely. Actually, I’d probably be out of my non-living life. There was no way I could fail a vampire so completely and come away whole.

I sat up among the recycled cardboard and thought about my next move. What did I have going for me? Not much. No magical powers to speak of. No guns, or weapons of any kind. Which, in hindsight, was extremely stupid. Why had I ever thought this simple pick-up-and-delivery would be simple?

Instead of thinking of things I didn’t have, I tried to think of the things I did have. My assets. And my strongest asset was also my greatest weakness, which is this: At times, I can be a real asshole.

I made up my mind, took a deep breath, and jumped out of the Dumpster. Yep, I was really going to do this.

I walked right up to the building, and went back in through the front door.

I didn’t wait for Ed to notice me. I knocked on the counter. He turned, and jumped once more.

“WHAT THE HELL!”

A bit of a smirk crept across my face as I spread my arms. Bits of black-blooded flesh hung in ribbons. Parts of me looked like I’d been filleted. “I forgot my keys,” I whispered. “Would you be so kind as to get them for me?”

Ed shook as he stood. “I… goddamn. Sweetbabyjezuz.”

My hands came to rest on my hips. “I apologize for my appearance. You see, I went looking for that package in your warehouse. It was my mistake, and I paid dearly for it, as you can see. Now, would you be so kind as to go back into your warehouse and retrieve my car keys for me? And perhaps whatever else is left of my leather jacket?

Ed shot out of his little office, disappearing through a little door in the back. I felt more than heard a rumbling coming from the back warehouse. The whole building shook with a loud roar. A door opened at the end of a hallway, and something came flying out at me.

My jacket. Or what was left of it.

That beautiful leather jacket, the one I’d had since the 70s, had been worn to a buttery soft patina. All that was left of that fine, favorite piece of clothing was a front panel and a bit of zipper. But the panel in question did, in fact, have the pocket with my keys still inside. I lifted the bit of shredded leather to my face, and inhaled the scent of leather and age. It smelled like home. I took it with me. I’m not usually a sentimentalist, but that jacket was like an extension of me. It deserved a proper burial.

I walked out of the place without any problems. Ed was nowhere to be seen.

So, there I was, back in the car at least, but without the package. Certainly I couldn’t just walk up again and expect him to give it to me this time. And I wasn’t about to sneak back in the warehouse, not after the shredding I’d received. No, I needed something else. Or someone else. I needed a partner.

Horseface? No. Too human. He had no mystical powers, and only a little pea-shooter of a gun that to my knowledge he’d only fired once in his life. No, I needed someone else. Someone with magical abilities that I didn’t have. Someone with charisma…

Well, shit. I knew who to call.

She’d come. She always came to my rescue, especially in my moments of my greatest need, when she was in a prime place to laugh at me and make fun of my misfortune. Oh, she’d come and she’d love it. She’d roll in my misadventure like a dog rolls in dead fish, loving every minute of it.

Damn, I thought. She was the last person I wanted to call. The last person, really, that I ever wanted to see again. Not in person, at least. I just wanted her to go the hell away, move to the other side of the earth, and quit running circles in my head. But here I was, in need of serious help again, and she was the only person on this goddamn earth I could think of that had the skills-- and the willingness -- to help me.

I gathered what was left of my pride and made a plan. First, I doctored myself up -- I’ll spare you the gory details of that job. Then I did a quick cleanup, using what was left of my clothes to wipe away black splotches of blood. The gashes in my flesh began to heal over before I was finished. Once that was taken care I just looked like a naked, pale guy with a body full of scars.

Next up, the cure for the scars. Coffee. Very black. While not a complete cure, it would go a long way toward healing me. I drove for a bit until I found an all-night diner, one of those very greasy spoon places that caters to truck drivers. Still half-naked, I found a cold, damp sweatshirt sitting on a bench at a nearby bus stop, and put that on. I looked pathetic.

I drank the coffee down in one long, burning gulp. I didn’t even take time to taste it.

The woman at the lunch counter looked me over, then averted her eyes as she poured me a cup of coffee. I put down money to pay for it, and she seemed surprised. Middle aged and tired, the woman with “Ellenore” written on her nametag asked if I wanted anything else, without looking up. “No, thank you,” I said. “Just the coffee.” She turned and left me to myself.

I drank the coffee down in one long, burning gulp. I didn’t even take time to taste it. Ellenore refilled the cup without question, and without looking at me, and I took that one down as well. On her third pass, Ellenore left a large carafe in front of me. I put down another dollar.

You rarely find phone booths any more, but if you’re looking for a phone to use that isn’t someone’s cell phone, you can usually still find one at a greasy spoon. There was a phone in the little alcove by the bathroom. Not a proper pay phone, but just an old-fashioned landline with a big receiver and a curly cord. Acup next to it read “please pay 25 cents.” There was nothing in it.

I put in a nickel and a dime, which was all the change I had, and dialed the only number I knew by heart.

“Who is this?” a smooth, strong female voice answered. No hello, no this is so-and-so speaking. Just right to business. That’s my girl.

“Who else would be calling you from a strange phone in Tacoma after midnight?”

“Goddammit, Davis.” She sighed. “What the hell’s wrong now?”

I tried to laugh. “Hey, Dollface. Can’t an old flame just call you out of the blue to say hello?”

“Not you,” she said. “Not from Tacoma. You’re in trouble again, aren’t you?”

“Well…” I said, trying to sound casual. “Not as bad as usual.”

She paused for a beat, then said. “That’s promising. Go on.”

I gave her details. I explained the job, and the package, and sort-of played down the bit of trouble I’d had with Ed and played up the part where I got ripped to shreds. Sympathy might help. Though I did not mention the Dumpster. I have some pride.

I could hear her breathing on the other end, as if she had to think about whether or not she’d come. “Yeah, I’ll come.” I knew she would.