On the way home from the office following shift's end, the faintest hint of flickering light caught my attention. In the rear view mirror, a quarter-mile behind, a pair of headlights pulled from the curb.
The car followed my turn ontoEast Washington , then followed my zig-zag toJohn Nolan Drive . Though the speed limit was 35, I let up on the accelerator and slowed to 25. The other car maintained its quarter-mile following distance.
A right turn, another right, then an immediate left. After the third turn, I glanced at the rear view mirror.
Twin, white dots glowed in the mirror.
Chapter 17
Retribution
Right turn, left turn, left turn, right turn. With each respective turn, the headlights reappeared in the rear-view mirror, the distance constant, yet discreet.
My mind quickly sifted through recollections and possibilities as my foot pressed against the gas pedal, maintaining a velocity of exactly five miles-per-hour below the speed limit.
Merely a few hours ago, three men had threatened me when it was they who had been in violation of the rules; their companion had been dosed with datura, a most exotic drug indeed; though they themselves possessed arrogance like many of these affluent college students, their threats had indeed seemed real; though the opportunity had not been there for full scrutiny, their appearance did seem strange - they were pale! Yes, quite pale when compared with all these students, who upon returning from theirFlorida vacations at the conclusion of spring break bore bronzed skin, their flesh intentionally charred by the sub-tropical sun -
- This is U-Ride. You have to take us. You're just a fucking cab driver.
Truck had been murdered by something not human, and he had had a similar encounter with a college student who belligerently refused to obey U-Ride regulations. Hypothesis: Truck had been murdered by vampires because he had offended their sense of arrogance, and now the same vampires wanted their vengeance over me for exactly the same reason.
It was time to test this hypothesis. I accelerated, parked at the far end of the block, willed myself into discorporation and rematerialized, straddled over a high branch of a densely leafed oak tree across the street.
It was time to be a hunter once again.
The white sedan squealed to a stop alongside myToyota . A trio of young men got out, leaving the motor running, serenading the block with the engine's soft, muscular purr. One fellow was tall and lithe, another scrawny, the third a bit stout.
No doubt remained; they were indeed the same trio as before.
This is U-Ride. You have to take us. You're just a fucking cab driver.
One reached for the driver's door, only to find it locked, only to find the car empty. He kicked a tire, then threw a single punch at the driver's side window. A muffled crash broke through the silence of night.
The other two leaped atop the car, one on the trunk, the other on the hood, both jumping up and down, causing my poorToyota to rock violently. The first fellow ran to the passenger side, threw two quick punches at the quaking vehicle. Two more crashes echoed up and down the block.
The gentleman jumping on the hood leaped high in the air and landed on the edge, causing the fellow on the trunk to fly upward. As the fellow in the rear descended, he thrust his leg and smashed the back window, then leaped to the pavement.
The gentleman on the hood spun upward, jumped hard onto the center of the hood, then spun again, kicking hard at the windshield, which shattered like freshly frozen ice. With a backflip and a full, backwards summersault, he joined his comrades who surveyed the damage, their laughter an obvious indicator that they had enjoyed this vandalism and were impressed with their ability to cause this much destruction.
They made no attempt to scan the nearby terrain for any sign of their apparently-human prey, not even making use of their enhanced senses. Doubled over with laughter, the trio returned to their car and disappeared into the night. After a bit, I dropped from the tree to survey the damage done to my trusty steed.
"I am so very sorry, my sweet mount," I said, stroking the steel skin of myToyota 's roof, momentarily disappointed that such a reliable car had to be sacrificed to gather intelligence about these brigands.
But much evidence presented itself. The windows were completely shattered. The back window bore a massive, jagged hole in the center, spiderweb cracks covering those chunks of glass