20. Squeezy Pop

S hots rang out behind him as Harlow sliced through the neck of the vampire he was facing. Spinning around, he kept up the momentum, taking the head off of the one who'd been coming up from behind.

Finding Foxx on the ground, grappling with a man whose skull appeared to be half missing, he tackled the fucker off him. Rolling with the vampire, he dropped his sword and just grabbed and squeezed at the vampire's throat, his eyes widening at how easily his nails and hands dug into and through the muscles and tissue of his neck. Harlow laid there, shocked to all hell when the man's head popped clean off, in a splash of disgusting blood and ick...that by some miracle, coated his chest, but missed his face.

Gagging, he pushed the body off him and stood, holding his gore-covered hands away from him. "You know…that felt…gross. Really…gross…"

Foxx was sitting up, still on the ground, eyeing him. "Kind of looked gross, even from where I was." The vampire's nose wrinkled. "You probably should avoid grabbing and squeezing. It's much better to just stab your hands in and your claws through."

Harlow eyed the blood and gunk on his hands, and wiped them off as best as he could on the dead man's clothes. Straightening up, he asked, "Can you get a wet wipe out of my pocket?" On seeing how wide and glossy the vampire's eyes had gotten, his damn bottom lip even wobbling, Harlow quickly added, "Don't laugh!"

Foxx took a deep breath in and out and cleared his throat. "This is what grosses you out? We literally had sex while rolling around in body fluids."

"Yeah, but I didn't fucking dig my hands into someone! I just…" Harlow growled and cursed. "It's different, okay! It feels like I'm still touching him, ugh…"

At the pained expression on the dhampir's face, Foxx got up off the ground. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked with a frown.

"Yes," Harlow ground out. The man was still holding his hands away from him.

Maybe it was less about the gore and more how it had gotten there? Walking over to him, he asked with a small smile, "Left pocket, right?"

The man's shoulders sagged a little in relief, and he nodded. "Outer left zipper pocket."

"You made them easy to find, I see," Foxx mused as he unzipped the pocket and pulled out the only thing inside—a small packet of wipes. Opening it, he plucked one out and held it up.

Harlow grabbed it and sighed in relief as he swiftly cleaned his hands, making sure to go around each finger thoroughly.

Dropping the dirty wipe in a nearby rubbish bin, the man grabbed a few more from the packet Foxx was still holding. Using another one to clean his hands again, the man attempted to use the other two to clean off his chest. When all three were a nasty mess, the man tossed them away, before taking the pack from him and slipping it back into his pocket.

"Feel better?" Foxx hummed. Wrapping his arms around the man, he looked up as he leaned against his chest.

"Yes…" Harlow grumbled, hugging him.

"Aww, my poor haphephobic old man!" Foxx giggled.

"What…?"

"Fear of touch, or in your case, touching."

The man glared for a brief moment, before his brow pinched, followed by him shrugging. "It wouldn't be completely wrong. Aversion instead fear, though, would be the right word. Disgust would fit even better. And it's not everything…or every one… It's…" Harlow frowned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, there are rules to it. You are okay with touching, as long as it's someone you are killing, fighting, or fucking. Well, tonight we learned there are caveats to that. So next time, claws instead of squeezing."

"How…do I bring out my claws?"

"Ah…right… I'll…teach you how to do that later. Stick to your guns and blades for now."

"Speaking of, why didn't you keep shooting?"

Foxx winced. "I…ran out of bullets. These bastards just take so much to go down…"

"Fucking hell, Foxx. You should have said something the second you ran out."

"I was a bit busy keeping him from biting me," Foxx drawled. "Question…do they feel like they are getting stronger to you?"

The dhampir's brow pinched again, his head tilting. The man stared blankly for a moment before finally saying, "Yes…"

"And they shouldn't be…because they aren't any older than the ones we've already faced."

"How are they on the inside?"

"Worse… We've been here…what? Three hours? If it keeps progressing as it is…I'd be surprised if they survived past the next hour."

"So they are closer to death, yet their strength is increasing the nearer they get."

"It's like they are in a rush to use up as much energy as they can before they extinguish."

Foxx pulled back and unclipped his radio from the chest pocket of his dungarees. Clicking the button, he spoke into it. "This is team one. Six more dead."

There was a click and then the voice of the Police Chief came on the line. "Return to the observation tent, team one. Two vampires are unaccounted for, but none are in sight of the cameras. The other team is currently engaged with the remaining vampires."

"On our way," Foxx said, before clipping his radio back to his pocket. "Two left," he sighed.

So many lost… The question was, why?

"Come on, Foxx… No time to get sad, we have a job to do."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Iggy cursed while he threw his last knife, as Oceana was taken down by a vampire that was more than twice her size.

Pulling out his gun, he ran towards her, and aiming for the male vampire's skull, he fired. The first bullet lodged into the man's back, the vampire jerking from the blow. Still on top of Oceana, the man glanced back with a hiss. Iggy stopped in his tracks under the dead stare and fired again, and…missed.

When the vampire climbed off Oceana and started to barrel towards him, he slammed his eyes shut but kept firing.

Through the loudness of his gunfire, Iggy heard the sound of a body falling, along with the spray of blood, and then oddly, a yelp followed by cursing. After a few moments had passed, without him feeling any sort of claws trying to tear him apart, with the only noise remaining the useless clicks of his empty gun, he slowly opened his eyes. Iggy found himself staring into the very angry face of Oceana. The vampire was holding her side, and there was a bloodstain on her blue sweater that seemed to be rapidly spreading out from under her hand.

Slowly lowering his gun, Iggy asked, with false hope, "Did…he…claw you?"

"No, Iggy, you shot me!" Oceana hissed.

His eyes widened and he sputtered, "I-I didn't mean to!"

Ah…dammit… This…was not going to do his already tarnished reputation any good…

"Just stick to your fucking knives!"

"I…ran out…" Iggy admitted slowly.

Oceana let out a string of curses. "I don't want to SOUND ungrateful, Iggy! I don't! I really don't. You got him off me, but…WHY WOULD YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES AND KEEP SHOOTING?!"

"I'M SORRY, OKAY!? I'D JUST RATHER NOT SEE MY OWN DEATH HAPPEN!?!"