The Vampire

Alan’s eyes never left the flames, picturing the screams of the woman. He knew what he was getting himself into. He was willing to do whatever it took to have food, water, and a place to sleep.

He knew this group he was stuck with wasn’t exactly filled with good people. There were possible bounties for their arrests over their heads.

He hoped that they weren’t that bad, until they found the woman. She was traveling by carriage, all by herself. She wasn’t expecting to be ambushed.

Alan tried so hard to get the screams out of his head, but he couldn’t. It was like a mantra that continued in his head, like a violin tune played by an awful player. Alan took a peek at one of the men he had become close to.

His name was Dante, a man that had been part of this group for about five years. Dante used to be a farmer, who lived with his pa since he was fifteen. Once his pa died from a fever, he ran away from home.

The gang found him, and gave him a home. Dante never bothered to leave the gang ever since. Perhaps he felt he had no where else to go. He was taking a bite out of a piece of rabbit one of the group members had cooked for a midnight snack.

“Dante…why did…why did they hurt that woman?”

Alan could feel Dante’s eyes on him as he took a while to answer his question.

“Because the boss let them.”

“Why?”

“They’re not good folks.”

Alan was surprised to feel wetness on his cheeks.

“They didn’t have to do that.”

“Well…they wanted to.”

With that said, Dante stood up, and left Alan alone to finish what was left of the rabbit. Alan could faintly hear the other men laughing. He recognized the booming laughter of Isaiah, their leader.

Alan wished he had the guts to march over there and plunge a knife straight into the middle of his eyes. But doing so would result in his own death. And he was afraid to die.

The thought of fading into complete darkness was unbearable to think about. However, it was selfish of him to think this way. That woman endured far worse before she succumbed to her own death.

How he wished he had charged through those men with his horse before they did that evil act. Instead, Alan found himself going the opposite direction, trying hard to ignore the hysterical screams as the men laughed.

Alan wanted to hack off both of his ears when he overheard Isaiah say in his booming voice:

“Careful with her boys. She’s a fighter.”

Dante stood by Isaiah, watching the act take place. Alan was in shock that his friend didn’t leave with him.

Suddenly, Alan started to feel sick to his stomach. He couldn’t be there anymore. Listening to those men. Listening to Isaiah. Listening to Dante tell him why they did what they did. He had to go somewhere.

Not too far away. He wanted peace and quiet.

At least for a moment.

Alan walked away, grateful that the gang was too busy to notice his departure. They had a tendency to get black out drunk at night until they fell asleep. Alan didn’t mind the woods. It was sort of peaceful at night.

Besides, the sounds of crickets and all kinds of bird chirps was more fitting to this kind of setting compared to the annoying men he was stuck with. Alan didn’t stop walking until he reached a river.

It was a fast-moving river, the kind that you pray never to be caught in. Alan learned of so many men that died while trying to cross a river like this. How the water swept them away, their bodies crashing against the rocks. Very few survived from a fate like this.

He imagined Isaiah getting caught by the water, screaming for help as he reached for Alan. He allowed himself to smile, enjoying this daydream. He flinched when a twig snapped behind him.

He whirled around, his heart beating in his chest. He reached for a gun that wasn’t in his belt, cursing himself for not carrying it around with him. What he wasn’t expecting was a horse.

This horse was a beautiful shade of black. It let out a soft neigh, as it patted its hooves against the Earth. What was strange about this horse was the color of its eyes.

When Alan took several steps closer to study the horse, he realized that its eyes were a dark shade of red. Perhaps this horse was sick, needing some kind of healing to help it get better.

Alan reached out to touch the horse’s nose, but then a scream echoed from the camp. Alan gasped, believing he was hearing the woman’s cries all over again. Until he realized it was the screams of men.

Alan froze, his heart pounding within his chest. Without thinking, he ran toward the camp. Even though the men were most likely acting stupid for being wasted, the last thing he needed was Isaiah and the men to realize that he had wandered away from camp.

He couldn’t imagine the punishment that would follow for daring to walk away from Isaiah. He thought he heard the horse running after him, but he could have imagined it.

When Alan arrived at the camp, he was expecting to receive a lecture or find the men still drinking away, until he spotted the headless body near the fire in the middle of camp.

Alan threw up the little rabbit he had eaten that night, landing right beside the body. Gunshots mingled with screams echoed around him.

Wherever Alan looked, that man would get lifted in the air, disappearing in a matter of seconds. He thought he saw something huge flying, but that was impossible.

Gang members were running throughout the camp, knocking over tents or other items, and desperately trying to get on their horses. Alan searched for Dante, but it was hopeless in this chaos.

He let out a yell when something crashed into him. A hand clapped over his mouth. It was Isaiah, his eyes wide beneath the brim of his hat. Dante was beside him, his gun trying to aim at whatever was killing the group.

“Run you fool! Run!”

Isaiah grabbed hold of Alan’s arm, dragging him along. Dante followed, cursing multiple times as they ran for their lives. Alan lost track of how long they had been running for. Then once Isaiah let him go, he fell down like a heavy sack of potatoes.

“What the fuck are you doing, you little shit?,”

Isaiah kicked at Alan’s torso, knocking the wind out of him.

“Boss, stop! We need all the help we can get right now.”

Alan massaged the spot where the boss had kicked him.

“S-Sorry sir. I’m really-really afraid,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Boss, I think we should wait here until everything dies down. I think we’re pretty far away.”

Isaiah and Dante both sat down, with Alan between them. They had found themselves behind some huge log, and all three were hiding behind it. Screams continued to echo from the camp.

“What…what is happening?,” Alan whispered.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Were you taking a nap?,” Isaiah spat out.

“Boss, please keep your voice down,” Dante whispered.

Isaiah opened his mouth to yell at Dante, but closed it.

Alan wasn’t sure whether to be rejoicing this moment or terrified out of his mind.

“Something is killing everyone. Something that can fly,” Dante said.

“What is it?,” Alan asked softly.

Dante closed his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The three men waited for a long time, until the gang couldn’t be heard anymore. Alan held his breathe, hoping he would hear at least hear a small hint that someone else from the camp had survived.

None came.

Dante released a breathe.

“Boss, I think it’s over.”

“Bullshit. I’m not going out there to check. I say we wait until the sun comes up.”

“Boss, I don’t think that’s wise — ”

“I give the orders here. Not you.”

“My concern is the horses, boss. What if we lose our transportation? God knows how far they are going to run away from this fucked up situation.”

Isaiah grumbled something under his breathe that Alan couldn’t quite catch. Isaiah pulled out his gun, pointing it at Dante.

“I said I give the orders around here, Bill.”

“My name is Dante,” Dante snapped.

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.”

Dante glared at Isaiah.

“I’m going to go look for a fucking horse. I don’t want to lose any of them. We don’t even know how far we are into the woods. We don’t even know what’s on the other side. What if the next town is thousands of miles away? What then, boss? What’s your plan?”

Isaiah stumbled over his words, another oddity that Alan never thought he would ever witness. Nor Dante standing up to him in such a bold way.

Isaiah was no longer a scary figure to Alan that allowed a horrific act to happen. He was a scared man, like the rest of them. Alan couldn’t stop himself. He burst out laughing.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Isaiah slammed the butt of his gun against Alan’s face. The gun collided against his mouth. He could feel teeth break. Alan leaned over on the ground on all fours, feeling wetness flow from his lips.

Dante shrieked. Alan thought at first it was Dante panicking over his injuries, until he caught a glimpse of Dante’s body shooting into the air.

Isaiah let out a whiny girl — like scream, and took off running into the woods. Alan ran after him, too scared to notice the pain and the tears over the loss of his friend.

Something grabbed hold of Isaiah, lifting him into the air. It took Alan a moment to realize that it was the same horse that Alan had spotted earlier by the river. Isaiah’s gun slipped from his hand.

The horse had Isaiah by the arm, with his boss about several feet in the air. This spectacle amazed and scared Alan.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

A strange wet sound was coming from somewhere. Alan thought at first that Isaiah was pissing himself. Then he saw what the horse was doing to him. Blood was falling from the horse’s mouth.

It appeared that it was sucking at Isaiah’s blood.

Isaiah screamed, reaching out toward Alan. He began to beg for mercy, begging for Alan to save him. He didn’t bother to make a move to save him. For once, it felt good acting like a ‘coward.’

Alan could no longer hear the woman’s screams in his head.

Only Isaiah’s.

Isaiah stopped screaming after a couple more seconds. The horse let Isaiah drop to the ground. His body now reminded Alan of a pancake.

Alan retched, feeling bile rising up his throat. He let it fall from his mouth, the pain from the gun slamming into his teeth vibrating throughout the insides of his mouth. He thought he saw bits of teeth stuck in his vomit.

Alan covered his mouth, the tears coming back. It was all too much. Alan whimpered through his hands when something from the sky landed right by the horse. The figure stood up.

It was a cowboy. His clothes were soaked in red.

His eyes were glowing a bright yellow, before fading into the same color as the horses. The same red. The cowboy put out a hand toward the horse.

The horse placed his nose into the cowboy’s hand. It licked at the red on his hand. The cowboy placed his head against the horse’s face, as if he was comforting it. Horses truly were a man’s best friend.

The cowboy turned in the direction of Alan. Once he saw those red eyes, he bolted. He tripped over his own feet as he continued to run. He was scared. He didn’t want to die. He was afraid to die.

Alan then felt his feet give way, and he landed in water. He took hold of a rock, feeling the water trying to pull him away. He had fallen into the river. His head shot up to find the cowboy standing above him.

His horse was right behind him. The cowboy extended an arm, his hand reaching out to Alan. His nails were sharp, like knives. Alan let go of the rock. He yelled the whole time, as the water washed him away.

The last thing he saw was the cowboy watching him go, those eyes glowing a bright yellow, before he fell over the waterfall, into the darkness below.

Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn