Chapter Ten

There's Something Amiss in Klamath

If no one noticed me leave, everyone notices when I walk back in. When we walk back in.

Everyone except for Ruby Grace. She’s seriously engrossed in whatever’s on her tablet screen. Since my kids and I are being good and not breaking people’s concept of reality, the most interesting person in the house is Dusk. He’s got all manner of stories about his adventures as a wandering artist in Europe. ‘Wandering artist’ sounds a lot better than homeless guy carrying a box of paint.

I’m glad we don’t have any little kids with us right now. Modern kids would be miserable in this house. No video games, no internet, only one television. Suppose it wouldn’t be too big a deal for me to quickly go get a video game system… though I think almost all of them nowadays require an internet connection or they refuse to work. The only way this house is getting any form of internet connection would be satellite. If Dusk is going to end up staying here, he’s probably going to get that installed. It would be nice to keep in touch with him via email .

Anyway, when I walk in with an unknown man, everyone stares.

“Found a lost hiker,” I say, shrugging. “Heard a scream a bit ago. Poor guy was being chased by a pack of coyotes.” I give Tammy and Anthony a pointed look.

They both get it immediately. Whenever something happened back home with werewolves, Detective Sherbet and/or the media would usually report the fallout as the result of a mountain lion attack... or coyotes.

Tammy seems to be a little worried while Anthony’s got more the look of a teenager who’s been asked to take out the trash when he’s in the middle of a video game.

“Nothing we have to worry about right now. I chased them off.” I gesture at the hiker. “This is Emerson. I invited him to spend the night here, where it’s safe.”

After a brief conversation about coyotes, we sit down. Unfortunately, my code phrase has gotten Ruby Grace, Ellie Mae, and Paxton freaking out at the idea the woods around here are dangerous. I give them all a mental prompt to relax.

Emerson’s sticking to me like a lost puppy. He sits right next to me on the couch. I don’t mind since he’s not being handsy or creepy at all. He suspects there is something ‘unusual’ about me and being near me is likely the safest place in the room. Poor guy probably worries another vampire is going to show up out of nowhere and attack him. I give him a small prompt to chillax, too. That he couldn’t be safer. He audibly sighs and sits back.

Tammy takes Paxton aside and, I assume, explains what I really meant. When they emerge from the hallway, Paxton appears to be much less terrified. You’d think realizing I’m talking about vampires would scare her more than coyotes, but it didn’t. I suppose in a way it makes sense. Actual animals are unpredictable. Not that vampires aren’t sneaky, too. But they typically—and I’m being generous here—don’t randomly attack people. Then again, vampires don’t typically explode into clouds of ash and bones when they die, either. That’s going to be bothering me until I understand what the heck was going on with that guy. Dammit. I probably should have picked up a bone fragment to show Max.

Dusk resumes talking about some time he spent living in a little hut on the outskirts of an Italian monastery. Evidently, the monks fed him for a few months in exchange for his doing some religious paintings for them. I have yet to see any of his work, though something tells me my brother is actually competent as far as artists go. He doesn’t come off as a scammer.

Out of nowhere, Ruby Grace suddenly emits a squeal.

Everyone stops to stare at her… except for Tammy and Anthony, who are checking the windows for any signs of danger. The sudden squeal makes Paxton jump and scream, then glare at Ruby Grace in a ‘why the heck did you do that for’ way.

Ruby Grace points at the hiker. “You’re Emerson Zhu?”

“Uhh, yeah.” Emerson nods.

Everyone else in the room, except me, is making a face like ‘who the hell is Emerson Zhu?’

My sister’s youngest child spares him the embarrassment of having to brag. She rattles on about how he runs this ‘awesome’ paranormal investigation YouTube channel, and he’s like the only investigator in the world who doesn’t scream and run away the instant something unusual happens. In fact, he usually runs toward danger.

Emerson gives a nervous laugh. “I mean ghosts are dead. They really can’t hurt you. Why run?”

“But I’ve seen shows where people get scratched by ghosts,” says Ellie Mae.

“They’re lying.” Ruby Grace examines her fingernails. “You never see a video where the scratches appear in real time. Someone always suddenly has pain and when they look—oops— there are scratches. Anyone could have done it when the camera was pointing somewhere else.”

Emerson nods at her. “I haven’t been scratched once—well, one time, but not by a ghost.”

“What scratched you? A demon?” asks Ruby Grace, breathless.

“A…” Emerson glances at me for a second. “Coyote.”

“Ooh. That had to be scary.” Ruby Grace clutches her tablet to her chest, shivering.

“A little, yeah, though it might have actually bit me.” Emerson tries his best to stop shaking. It’s subtle though. I doubt anyone can see him trembling. I’m close enough to feel it.

“Clay should be here early tomorrow morning,” says Mary Lou, queen of the subject change.

“That’s good.” I smile. “You finally got in touch with him, then.”

“River also called,” says Dusk, taking a long swig of iced tea. “Dammit. I shouldn’t be drinking this so late. I’m going to wake up in the middle of the night having to pee.”

“What did River say?” asks Mary Lou.

Dusk swirls his tea around in the glass. “His flight got delayed for weather. Otherwise, he’d have been here today. He’s expecting to show up tomorrow, as well.”

“That’ll be everyone, then.” Mary Lou leans her head back and lets out a long exhale. “Been a long time since we had the whole family in one place.”

Rick yawns… which sets off a chain reaction.

Eventually—and by that, I mean within about fifteen minutes—we all break up from the living room and go looking for places to sleep. We put Emerson in one of the three unclaimed rooms. Two are kinda clogged with piles of cardboard boxes containing Dad’s stuff. One has enough open space to allow the setup of a sleeping bag, which Emerson already has with him. He seems reluctant to be left alone in the room. I prompt him again that all is well, and he nods and yawns... and agrees to be separated from me for the night.

On complete autopilot, I go to my old bedroom, located down the hall—the last door on the left. Wow. My old Dead Kennedys band poster is still on the door. Still don’t really know why I got it or even put it on my door. It had to be some sort of rebellion thing. I wasn’t really into that kind of music as much as I made people think.

Maybe it’s why that poster went on the outside of my door. A less-than-metaphorical wall, so to speak. I’m also shocked as hell when I open the door. The room looks like a time capsule, utterly undisturbed from when I left to go to college. Even the clothes I left on the floor are still there.

“Who the heck is Tori Amos?” asks Tammy behind me, glancing at one of my ‘inside-the-room’ posters.

Yeah, that’s the kind of music I listened to back then. Very girly stuff. Tomboy on the outside, princess on the inside, I suppose. “Music I listened to as a kid. Good music, mind you.”

“Never heard of her,” says Tammy in a weird non-sarcastic tone like she’s tempted to look up her music and give it a whirl.

“You can have the bed.” I nod at Tammy. “I’ll flop on the floor.”

“No way, Ma. This is your old room. It’s your bed.” She nudges me. “If you want me using the bed, we’re going to share it.”

Whatever. It’s not a tiny bed and neither one of us is very big… so sure.

I grab two pairs of my pajamas out of the dresser, which probably hasn’t been touched since I moved out. They smell like wood from being in the drawer so long. Could be worse; it’s not an entirely unpleasant aroma. We change and get into bed, with Tammy closer to the wall. We fit without being squished into each other. A few minutes after we’ve settled, Anthony walks in dragging the couch cushions, which he drops on the floor to improvise a bed.

From the sounds of conversation coming in from the hall, my siblings are all reclaiming their old bedrooms. Ellie Mae and Ruby Grace are sharing the unused second room in sleeping bags while Billy Joe’s camping out on the floor in the living room. The thought of Rick sleeping in Mary Lou’s room makes me laugh inside. If Mom only knew my sister sneaked a boy into her bedroom.

Wow this is surreal, laying in my old bed staring up at the ceiling. My head spins with all the things I used to think and worry about while doing this exact thing. Most of it was school. Anxiety over tests and such. Worrying if I might ever get caught for sneaking onto that farm and stealing produce. I didn’t do that for very long. I was around twelve the last time I raided the farm. Guess Dad started making a bit more money at his traveling sales job than he did as a minor league baseball player. Of course, he hated the job and loved baseball. But the job turned food from an ‘if’ to a ‘what kind’ for us kids, though, so he tolerated it.

“So, a vampire?” whispers Tammy.

“I think so.”

“What happened?” asks Ant from the floor.

“Heard a scream outside. Sounded desperate, so I investigated.” I stretch.

Anthony yawns, too. “I figured you had a good reason for leaving.”

I catch them up on what happened, and add, “As soon as I cut his head off, his entire body just exploded.”

“Eww.” Tammy shivers.

“No gore. Just dust and bits of bones. It was the craziest thing.”

“Sounds like a movie vampire.” Tammy chuckles .

“It does,” says Anthony. “Guess Hollywood has made too many cheesy movies if that stuff is starting to happen for real.”

Ugh. There’s a horrible thought. Exactly how much of humanity’s collective consciousness must believe something in order for the Powers That Be to make that thing into reality? I can’t believe that vampires, in general, were entirely a creation of human expectation. There had to be something out there that existed before undead bloodsuckers entered the public consciousness and media fascination. What would the stories even be based on? How damaged a person would you have to be in order to invent something like a vampire completely out of the blue?

I nod to myself. A creator of some sort was responsible, surely.

Of course, there are plenty of ‘movie monsters’ far freakier and scarier than vampires.

I hope beyond hope that John Carpenter—creator of the Halloween franchise—is not really a Creator and none of his stuff ever happens for real. Oof. That would be rough.

“You guys know that I normally don’t go around killing vampires for sport, right?” I say. “They’re not dangerous wild animals.”

“These ones might be.” Tammy reaches her hand out from under the blanket to wipe at her face. “Did this one talk or just growl before it exploded?”

“Called me a bitch.” I shrug. “He had some intelligence. But I doubt it had any idea what I was, though. Must’ve thought I was an ordinary mortal.”

“Boy did he get the shock of his unlife,” says Anthony.

“Briefly, yes.” I take a deep breath and let it out slow.

When I was a kid, staring at my ceiling in hopes of finding answers never worked. Now, though… it kinda does. But the answers aren’t coming from the ceiling; rather, from my psychic feelers. A blank white surface serves essentially like a me ditative tool to help clear my mind. Yeah, I get the feeling Tammy is right. Depending on how much of a ‘movie vampire’ that guy was, there could be a whole nest of them somewhere in the area. Perhaps living in nearby caves, like the boys in Lost Boys .

“Whoa! You don’t have a computer in your room,” says Tammy.

Anthony laughs. “They didn’t have computers when Ma was a kid.”

“Shush, you two.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not that old. They had computers… we just didn’t, not in this house. And… most kids didn’t have their own back then, either. A few kids in my class had them, but it was like a ‘family computer’ that everyone shared.”

“Wow.” Tammy fake shivers. “How did they ever deal with that?”

“Probably the same way we dealt with telephones attached to the wall with cords,” I add.

“Barbaric,” says Tammy in a sarcastic tone before going serious. “So, how much crap did you just step in?”

“Good question. Something ‘strange’ is going on around here.” I stare deeply into the blank ceiling above me, feeling my thoughts swirl and coalesce into a strong opinion. “Got a real strong sense this is only the beginning.”

“Greeeeat.” Tammy yawns. “Well, at least we won’t be bored.”