Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,42
van?”
“Two machetes. A chainsaw.”
Marta set her jaw. “That’s a good start.”
Bobby opened up the back and they armed themselves, hacking and coughing. Then they marched toward the field.
As they walked, Bobby gripped one of the machetes, his knuckles white. Marta swung the other one, getting used to the weight. Sam opted for the chainsaw. If it weren’t for them pausing to hack up a lung every few feet, they’d look pretty formidable.
Sam could still feel the heat from the blaze, even in the vacant lot. He counted six pairs of eyes.
“Winchester,” sneered Leather Jacket when Sam drew closer. His face was a mess. The buckshot had tattered the flesh. “You ran like a squealing little pig back there.”
“Now you have to fight three of us instead of ambushing me.”
The five other vampires clustered around in a semi-circle. Sam recognized Cowboy Boots and a couple ofothers who had pounded on the van’s windows. One of them sported a black Mohawk. Another struck Sam as out of place, a professor type in an honest-to-goodness tweed suit with elbow patches. One circled them in a rockabilly red and black bowling shirt with a skull vomiting fire. The last was a gaunt and pale female, her dark eyes glittering beneath a mane of tangled, ebony hair.
Mohawk held Johennie’s shotgun, trained in Sam’s direction.
Leather Jacket sneered, moving the blade tighter against Johennie’s neck. The spice shop owner’s face remained expressionless. He stared up at the sky, unmoving.
“We’re willing to make a trade,” said Leather Jacket, apparently the leader of the nest. “The old man for Winchester and Singer.”
Johennie shifted, moving for the first time. “That’s hardly a fair trade. I’m worth ten of them.”
That made Bobby smile.
“No trade?” the vampire growled.
“What am I? Chopped liver?” Marta said.
“Listen. We don’t want to fight,” the lead vampire said. “We just want to kill you.”
Sam looped his fingers through the pull for the chainsaw.
“Oh, hell,” Leather Jacket added. “Who are we kidding? Of course we want to fight!”
He had no sooner finished his sentence than Johennie spun suddenly, forcing the vampire’s knife hand down and stabbing the blade into its belly. In a flash, Johennie threw him to the ground, then lashed out and grabbed the barrel of his sawed-off. He slammed his fist down on the end, causing the stock to careen upward and smash Mohawk’s mouth. His hands went slack and Johennie took back the shotgun.
Sam revved up the chainsaw, feeling the powerful thrum of it. The female and Rockabilly scattered at the sound of it, but the other four held their ground.
The creatures attacked, running toward them. Marta stepped in, wielding her machete like a samurai. She swung it forward over her head, connecting with Mohawk. His head flew off in a spray of blood, landing in a bush some ten feet away. Then she ducked and rolled under the Professor as he tried to dive-tackle her. The vampire hit the ground and Sam closed in with the chainsaw, sawing through the creature’s neck as he tried to stand up. The body flinched, toppling over in the dirt. Two down, four to go.
Sam moved in toward Leather Jacket, who stood with a hand clasped to his injured side. The chainsaw was bulky and cumbersome, but Sam knew it would be hard for anything to get near him and keep its head.
Leather Jacket started circling.
Bobby closed in on Cowboy Boots. Blood streamed from the vampire’s broken lip. Sam saw the eyes flash again, and the vampire barreled toward Bobby. Johennie darted out of the shadows and threw out his leg to trip him. He went sprawling, cowboy boots stretching into the air. He rolled to a stop and Bobby came down fast and hard with the machete blade. The head rolled away.
Sam saw fear enter Leather Jacket’s eyes now, replacing some of the cockiness. Marta, Bobby, and Johennie approached him from different sides, and the vampire started to look downright panicky.
Then Sam heard brush break behind him and turned in time to see two eyes flashing in the darkness only feet away. He lashed out with the chainsaw, connecting with something soft and pliable. Blood sprayed outward, coating his shirt and arms. He’d cut right into a vampire’s stomach. In the flickering light from the restaurant fire, Sam could just make out a ripped bowling shirt coated with blood. The vampire cried out in agony, and Marta raced in, swinging her machete down on his neck. The head separated, white bone gleaming in the light.