Dark Corner Part 47

"I'm coming!"

Ron and Maria vanished through the exit doors.

Junior heard the vampires behind him. Feet slapping against the wet tile. Hissing. Hungry for his blood.

Don't you dare look behind you, Junior.

He finally came to the lobby. He was about to push through the gla.s.s doors when he saw Ron and Maria. They were sprawled on the sidewalk outside. A pack of demon dogs swarmed over their bodies, like lions feeding on felled deer. Those mutts that could turn you into a vampire with a bite.

The dogs had been waiting for someone to run outside. He saw more dogs out there, hunched over people in blue medical uniforms.

Then Junior saw the man in black, the one from the cave. The guy strolled across the parking lot, toward the building. Dogs flanked him, like servants accompanying a king.

No one who ran out there would escape, period.

Drenched with water that continued to pour from the showers, Junior scrambled past the abandoned front desk in the lobby. There was another, shorter hallway behind the desk. At the end of the hall, he saw an Exit sign above a door, the blood-red letters glowing in the gloom.

The vampires' shrieks reverberated in the corridors. They weren't far behind.

He reached the exit, whammed open the door with his shoulder, and found himself in a pitch-black stairwell. He thumbed the Bic lighter and held it high, like a torch. It didn't give him much light, but he saw the door at the bottom of the dozen or so stairs.

Keeping the lighter held high, and clutching the bottle bomb in his other hand, he navigated down the steps. His knees trembled so badly he was certain that he would fall and roll down the stairs, maybe breaking his neck in the tumble. But he made it to the bottom without stumbling.

He pushed the door open.

A duo of slavering pit bulls awaited him in the alley. They rose from their haunches and came after him, snarling, foam spraying from their lips.

Frantic, Junior stepped inside and pulled the door shut.

The dogs sc.r.a.ped against the door, growling.

Junior leaned against the wall. His heart pounded so hard that the hammering seemed to transmit itself to the bricks behind him, making the walls throb in unison with his heart.

He wanted to find another way to escape, but he wondered if it would be worth the try. It was like these vampires had thought of all the ways to get out. Even if he jumped out a window, they would probably be waiting for him on the ground below.

At the top of the stairs, the door swished open.

Junior stood rigid.

Featherlight footsteps came inside the stairwell. Then the door was shut, closing out the chaotic sounds of the besieged hospital.

Junior held his breath. He would have to peek around the corner to see who was up there. But in his heart, he knew who it was.

"I can smell you down there, Junior," Vicky Queen said. "You've got that nice, manly scent that I've always liked."

Her sultry voice somehow managed to frighten and excite him at the same time.

Vicky's bare feet began to tap down the stairs.

"I know you've never been with a woman," she said. "I want to be your first, honey. You've waited so long, been holding out for that special woman. That special woman's me, Junior."

Tears pushed down Junior's cheeks. Sniffling, he flicked on the cigarette lighter again, held it aloft.

Vicky came around the corner, into the light. Her face was both beautiful and terrifying to Junior, both alien and painfully familiar.

"I want to give myself to you, after all these years," she said. "I want you to give yourself to me, too. We'll spend the rest of our lives together. We'll never die. Don't you want that for us, sweetie?"

She stepped closer.

Shaking his head, his face wet with tears, Junior raised the bottle bomb.

Please, Lord, please, Mama, forgive me for doing this.

Rage twisted Vicky's face. "Junior, you put that thing away, you hear me? You put it away right now!"

"I always loved you, Miss Queen," Junior said. "Please forgive me"

He lit the fuse. Vicky screeched. Junior rushed toward her and embraced her. The bomb exploded in a brilliant orb of flames, taking them away together.

Jackson caught Hunter as everyone was rus.h.i.+ng out of the station to go to the hospital.

"Hunter, I can't go to the hospital with y'all," he said.

David's eyes were understanding. "It's Jahlil, isn't it?"

"I got to find him." He knotted his hands. "d.a.m.n boy, always been so headstrong. I know he thinks he's gonna be out there in the streets hunting these suckers. I can't let him be running around out there alone. I'm the police chief, but I'm a daddy first"

"I understand," David said. "Be careful."

"You do the same. When I find my boy, we're gonna come to support you. That's a promise."

They shook hands. A jarring thought struck Jackson-the idea that he was never going to see David again. Whether it was because David was going to die-or he was going to die-he did not know. He didn't voice his thought, fearful that speaking it would guarantee that it would come true.

David left. Jackson looked around the office. Now, only a single candle glowed, leaving most of the room in shadow, but Jackson had spent so much time there over the years that he didn't need any light at all. This place had become more like his home than his own house. He'd been notified of major events in his life while sitting right over there at his desk. His wife going into labor with their son. Jahlil's first shaky steps. His father's death. His wife contracting cancer ...

There was a lifetime of memories here, both good and bad.

He blew out the candle. Then he left to find his son.

Jahlil was not about to go into battle against the bloodsuckers without some kind of bomb. When he and Poke discovered that the gas can in the garage was empty, they returned inside the house and went into the kitchen.

He found plenty of flammable stuff inside the cupboards. While Poke shone the flashlight over him, he filled several beer bottles with the dangerous liquids, packed strips of towels into the bottle necks, as wicks, and secured the fuses with wire trash-bag ties.

Rumbles of thunder clinked the plates in the dish rack. An angry wind swatted the window.

"That storm is kicking a.s.s," Poke said. "Where we going when we leave here?"

"We're gonna cruise around town," Jahlil said. "I know there's gonna be s.h.i.+t popping everywhere. I can feel it. Can't you?"

Poke wiped sweat from his face with his forearm. "Yeah. That's why I'm about to p.i.s.s on myself. I should've gotten the f.u.c.k out of Dodge when I had the chance. Carloads of n.i.g.g.as broke out after that meeting at the church. It was like a caravan going to a big-a.s.s family reunion."

"Cowards," Jahlil said. He packed a towel into the last bottle. "How're you gonna give up your crib and everything you have, just like that? My family's been here forever, man. I ain't giving up my s.h.i.+t without a fight-"

"Hey, you hear that?" Poke whispered.

Jahlil listened. He detected a sound, underneath the groaning thunder. It grew louder with each beat of his heart.

"Music," Jahlil said.

"Not just any music," Poke said. "That's Jacktown. I ain't gotta tell you who's always b.u.mpin' their s.h.i.+t."

No, you sure don't, Jahlil thought. His mouth was dry. He pushed a bottle toward Poke. Poke grasped it as if for dear life.

Jahlil picked up his shotgun off the dinette table.

The music, heavy with ba.s.s, made the living room windows pulsate. Car headlights burned on the curtains.

"Follow me," Jahlil said.

He went into the living room, Poke moving close behind him. Their bodies cast huge, jerky shadows on the walls.

At the front door, Jahlil lifted the edge of the drape that covered the small rectangular window.

A blue Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight was parked across the lawn, headlamps angled toward the living room. The car's tinted windows prevented Jahlil from seeing who was inside-as if there were any doubt.

"It's T-Bone's ride," Jahlil said. After T-Bone disappeared the other night, his mother had come by Jahlil's place to pick up the car. Looked like T-Bone had gotten it back.

"f.u.c.k," Poke said softly. "He's coming for us, man. He's coming to make us one of them vampire b.a.s.t.a.r.ds"

The ba.s.s line of T-Bone's favorite Jacktown song, "Foot on Ya Neck," began to boom from the car stereo.

In his mind's eye, Jahlil imagined T-Bone leaning in the driver's seat, a joint dangling from his fang-filled mouth, eyes red and frenzied, nodding his head to the funky rhythm.

Jahlil bit his tongue to hold back an outburst of lunatic laughter.

"What we gonna do, J?" Poke asked.

Jahlil leaned against the wall. Before, he was going to laugh. Now, he felt nauseated.

"We're going to go out there to get him," Jahlil said.

"f.u.c.k that, you crazy n.i.g.g.a-"

"Either we go out there to get him, or he's coming in here to get us," Jahlil said. "He'll be expecting us to run and hide. We've gotta make the first move"

"s.h.i.+t" Poke spat on the floor. Ordinarily, Jahlil would've busted him out for spitting on the carpet, but this was no time for pettiness. "All right, cool. You go first"

"We're going out there together. I'll lead."

"d.a.m.n. I'm gonna kick your a.s.s when this is all over. I'm tired of you putting me through all this s.h.i.+t."

"Poke, we get through this, and I'll be glad to let you borrow my cleats so you can kick my a.s.s with them," Jahlil said. "Are you ready? Remember our plan. I'm the shooter, you're the bomber."

"Man, I don't know if I can take out our boy." Poke gripped the beer bottle, but his eyes were wet.

"He's not our boy anymore. He's a monster. He'll rip out our throats if you give him the chance. We have to move on him."

"All right, all right." Poke closed his eyes, as if speaking a quick prayer. Then he nodded. "I'm ready."

Giving pep talks to Poke had the side benefit of quieting Jahlil's own anxiety. If Poke had not been there for him to motivate and direct, he would've had a h.e.l.l of a time dealing with this stuff. Acting as the brave leader for his boy helped him feel kind of fearless.

Although he wasn't completely without fear. Before putting his hand on the doork.n.o.b, he murmured a short prayer of his own.

Holding the shotgun in one hand, barrel aimed at the ceiling, he opened the door. He pressed the latch on the screen door.

Cold wind smacked him in the face and s.n.a.t.c.hed open the screen door.

In the car, Jacktown's song played on.

The porch was clear. Jahlil moved across it, stepped down the concrete steps. Poke was close on his heels.

"Let's check out the car," Jahlil said.

"Okay, I'll cover you from back here," Poke said.

Jahlil wanted Poke to stick with him, but it was obvious that just getting Poke to come outside had pushed his friend to the limits of his courage. Jahlil decided to let it ride.

Jahlil crept across the gra.s.s, closer to the Oldsmobile.

The music's earthquake-ba.s.s pounded in his bones.

Don't vampires have supersensitive ears? Jahlil wondered. If so, how in the h.e.l.l can T-Bone stand this music?

He grasped the handle of the pa.s.senger-side door. Pulled.

The door opened with a creak, releasing the mingled odors of marijuana, stale beer, and funk.

The car was empty.

"Is he in there?" Poke said.

Jahlil turned to respond-and that was when he saw the shadowy shape on the roof of the house. The figure crouched, muscles bunched, as though ready to leap.

"Run, Poke!" Jahlil said.

But as the words flew out of his mouth, the creature was already bouncing off the roof, as if catapulted into the air by a trampoline. It swooped to the ground and landed behind Poke, and by the time Poke heard Jahlil's warning and started to dash, the vampire had already twisted its arm around his neck.

Poke let out a strangled scream.