The Prejudice

Motionless, black clouds forced away the sun's midday light in the California woodsy area. The wind lifted brown, wrinkled leaves from the grass and scattered them throughout the hidden landscape. A violent breeze rushed past Milo's ears, yet he did not hear it. It's whistling echo was drowned out by the steady 'thumps' of his rapidly beating heart. He stood, over the newly soiled grave. He had made a crude cross out of wood he found in the area, which now stuck out the mound of fresh earth.

He had a series of old, incantations etched on it's surface. He wanted to weep for his old friend, but had forgotten how. The many years of seeing his kind ravaged by them had made him almost numb. Milo Chandler is the last of a dying breed; probably the one person left who knew of their existence. The last person who knows of the deadly threat which is slowly infecting the population with the disease. A sudden burst of wind from behind him pulled at his hooded trench coat. He stumbled and nearly fell on his friends grave while the wind continued thrust at him; as if something was asking him to join his fallen teammate. Taunting him to once again challenge death. To challenge them...

"...I promise." He whispered into the menacing swirls. A single tear plummeted from his left eye, yet his expression stayed passionless. His thoughts were trapped within the memory of what had taken place only ten hours before...

The weather was much more violent then. Giant pine treetops were bent, almost touching the ground as the wind's angry whistling attacked them. The sky was so dense that it was impossible to identify where the horizon ended and the dark, clouded heavens began.

Out of the murky nothing which was the nearby pine forest, two figures withdrew from its protection and into a small clearing. Together, they stood staring at the dated shack which sat upon a hill just fifty yards in front them. They looked up in awe, because they knew it was just like them to find the classic scenery for a showdown. They knew the beasts were clever. For years Milo and Jake had tracked their massacre from the Midwest to, now, the west coast.

But back then, 'the brotherhood' had numbered in the thousands.

Back then, the humans were the predators.

Back then, Milo and his league of purist had the advantage.

But that was long ago.

"Damn! It's half past two. I don't think this is a good idea." Jake yelled over the howling wind to his mentor. In one hand, he clutch a service revolver, and in the other, a silver dagger.

"Twelve kids have been bitten by that thing. That means twelve kids will end up blood suckers at sunrise if we don't kill that thing by morning." Milo exclaimed unlatching the silver daggers which rested in his boot holsters.

"I know that. But there has to be some other way to go about this. Who knows how many of them are in there. If they catch us by surprise, that's it. I mean, they'll be nobody else to stop them. Maybe it's best if-"

"What are you really trying to say?"

"Well.." Jake lowered his voice, hoping that he would seem more reasonable. "-maybe those children are expendable for the cause." Jake braced himself; ready to absorb his mentor's angry verbal assault. But there wasn't one. Just a short pause overshadowed by the night breezes' caroling.

"I know." Milo replied softly. "I thought about it. But you didn't see those children, kid. You didn't really see their condition. Eyes bulging --- bodies switching ---pouring with sweat. They look at you as if pleading for you to stop the pain. But you're helpless. Not even the best medical help could save them from their journey through hell. Only we have the knowledge to bring these children out of the darkness; to bring them back into the light." He reached down into his boot holster and grabbed a silver dagger and held it closely. "After seeing them, I realized that we can't sacrifice those children for the cause because they - are - the cause!" Milo began to walk toward the old house. "There's one thing I know, Jake. If I die this morning, I'll die with the satisfaction of knowing that those twelve children will see the sunrise. That's my cause."

A sudden burst of wind almost caused Milo to topple backwards, as he made his way to the foot of the shack's stairs. The small dwelling was even worse up close. Its creaking foundation swayed to the winds every burst. It's wooden outer walls shifted forward and backward as if it were ready to fall at any minute.

Milo could tell that Jake was right behind him. He knew that the kid wouldn't allow him to go into battle alone. The young boy lived by the brotherhood code to the letter.

They both slowly started to walk up the time ridden stairs. With every step, they heard sharp cracks in the stairs; so loud that they seemed to drown out the whistling wind.

"Chandler..." the youngster asked. "This may sound stupid or something, but I want to make sure you understand me." Milo turned to him. "If...if I..somehow...not saying that I will but...if I get...well, you know...bitten, don't let me come back as one of them. Please burn me or drive a stake in my heart or something. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I don't want to end up one of them. Promise me, man."

"None of us want to turn into those things, but it's a chance we have to take, kid." And that was all he said. He didn't want to promise Jake because, to him it would be like admitting that it was about to happen. He ignored the question and Jake seemed to understand.

"What's the plan?" Jake said, putting away his dagger and pulling a flashlight from his back pocket.

"Standard formation. We'll survey the entranceway together. If there's a basement, I'll search it, while you keep an eye on the top floor."

"Well, shouldn't we stick together on this one? I mean- we haven't had time to do our homework. Just jumping onto this one could be suic-"

"Look, kid!! This ain't the typical job. We don't have a week for observation! In about three hours those kids'll die. We got to get in there, kill it, and get out."

"Then let's get to it." Jake said, as he walked up to the fragile door. Milo reached into his pocket and pulled out a his revolver and aimed for the doorknob.

Quickly, Jake grabbed his wrist. "Save your bullets..." Jake said as he braced his back leg. With one swift kick, he sent the front door careening inward Rotted wood chips were swept up by the wind as it rushed past the brotherhood into the shack. Milo turned toward his partner with a look of humorous disappointment.

"A little melodramatic, don't you think?" he said with a smirk.

"I always wanted to do that." His partner said as he took the initiative and entered the small dwelling.

Jake's flashlight revealed that the outside of the shack did the inside no justice It was completely furnished with the most modern furniture and electrical equipment. Milo ran his fingers along a nearby coffee table and then brought them to the flashlight. "Spotless. Check the lights." Jake nodded and journeyed back toward the front door where he thought the light switch would be. Quickly finding it, he flicked the switch up and down, yet nothing happened.

"No lights. It's a set up."

"Don't jump to conclusions. It might be negligence" Milo said with a hopeful tone, but his feelings were leaning toward his younger counterpart.

"Mind the fort up here. I'm coin' around back to see if there's a basement of some kind."

"With no flashlight?"

"No choice."

"I can go with you."

"No. If something happens, I don't want both of us trapped"
"I don't like this, Milo. This doesn't feel right."

"I know." He said softly, pulling the hammer of his revolver back. "But nevertheless, we stay in standard formation until the creature's whereabouts is confirmed."

"Yes sir."

Milo Chandler walked back onto the front porch. The wind's transgression had increased, almost blowing him back through the front door. "Shit." He whispered. He could see the sun's luminescent glow as the time grew closer to sunrise. He quickly hurried around to the back of the shack and found a set of double doors imbedded in the grassy backyard Quickly, he reached for the door handle and heaved with everything he had, yet the door budged only a fraction. The feeling of cold metal fell upon his hand which he realized was a craftsman heavy duty padlock. He lifted it slightly and tried to focus his eyesight on the padlock using partial light which was coming from the horizon.

"Brand new." He said which confirmed his hypothesis. The basement was the resting place for the undead.

"Not for long." he mumbled. Milo took two steps back and aimed for the craftsman padlock. He fired twice. The thought of a disco strobe light when through his head as the revolver displayed to flashes of bright light. He reached down and examined the lock. I had become a mangled, scorching piece of metal.

"I guess they don't make them like they use to."

He heard the rustling of grass to his right; loud enough to overtone the wind's howling. SOMETHING'S COMING!

He quickly raised his revolver again in the direction of the intrusion. A silhouetted figure entered his sights. His heart burned with terror. He cocked the hammer and began to ease the trigger.

"Don't shoot!! It's me!!" Jake said as came around the side of the house; quickly shining the flashlight glare on his face.

"Jesus, kid! I told you to stay in the goddamn house!" He said lowing his weapon. Another tenth of a second and his partner would have been history.

"I heard the shots! I thought you were in trouble."

"No trouble, yet. I just blew open a padlock on these cellar doors"

"So it's the..."

"I don't know. But I'm going to check. We don't have too much time left." Milo pulled the double doors open and let them fall to their sides. "Now just stay up here on the look out. If anything moves, shoot it." Milo grabbed Jake's flashlight and shined the glow into the dark void below. It revealed a series of steps which seemed to descended about six feet. One step at a time, he walked downward cautiously.

He didn't know what to expect.

He didn't have much time left.

He didn't see the pair of glowing eyes in the bushes behind them.

Chills rattled Milo's spine as the flashlight's glare revealed two pine boxed approximately seven feet long and three feet wide situated on the other side of the cellar.

Coffins.

He put away his revolver and grabbed a silver dagger from his boot holster. He quickly walked over to the first coffin. Using the hand with the dagger in it, he felt around the sides of the of the pine box until he found the edge of the top-lid.

"Rest in peace." He said as he flung the coffin lid up and off of the box and quickly raised his dagger into a striking position. The flashlight revealed nothing but a thick layer of earth lined along the bottom.

"Empty." He whispered

He looked at the other coffin and thought of his partner's revelation: "It's a set up."

Empty

It's a set up...

The padlock

It's a set up...

Empty coffins

It's a set up...

THE DOORS WERE PADLOCKED FROM THE OUTSIDE!!!!!!!

Milo's nerves tightened. The oxygen around him seemed to disappear as he began to hyperventilate. He had fallen for the oldest trick in the book.
He turned toward the cellar entrance and screamed.

"Shit!!! Jake, get the hell out of here. It's a tr..."

Without warning, the other coffin bursts open. The lid thrusts outward and struck Milo in the back, sending him off balance and blindly stumbling forward. The flashlight toppled to the floor and rolled along side the nearest coffin. Before Milo realized what happened, his head struck what seemed to be a shelve full of jarred product. He felt his forehead crash into a group of jars, shattering them as foul, syrupy liquid slimed over his face. He knew he was bleeding, but he was too dazed to pull himself together. The cellar doors suddenly closed shut.

"Jake..." he whimpered, hoping his young partner was quick enough to figure out that they had walked into an ambush. Before he could gain his senses, he felt ten talons, as cold as death itself, dig in and lock onto his shoulder blades. His first thought was: 'God no, I've been bitten!', but realized that claws could only dig so deep. The evil grip on his shoulders tightened and a hell-born grunt washed over him as the vampire picked him up and tossed him across the room of darkness. He felt himself airborne for only a fraction of a second until his flight was halted by another shelf of jars. He slammed into the preservatives rack and fell to the hard, soiled floor as large chunks of glass and foul syrups and liquids rained on top of him. His stomach heaved. He felt nauseous. The creature had gained the upper-hand and soon would be closing in for the kill.

"...weapon.... God... where's... weapon... son of a bitch.... weapon." He mumbled in breath only. With what little strength he had left, Milo guided his hand down toward his right boot holster.

It was empty.

What little hope he had seemed to wash away with the glass and syrup oozing out of the holster. He tried to get to his feet, but quickly slipped on the ooze and fell on his ass. He braced himself with his right hand which fell upon a piece of glass. The pain shot up his arm and out of his mouth. On instinct, he pulled the large sliver out of his hand and cradled it like a baby.

"The Reaper is about to meet his maker.." a scratchy, graveled, inhuman called to him from the darkness. Milo focused his attention in that the direction. The flashlight's glow, which was pointed directly at him, reveal the feet and lower-legs of a monster. It's silhouette itself was enough to turn a man's hair white. "Time for payback, son of a bitch."

"You know me?" Milo managed to say between gasps of breath.

"Oh, we all know about you. You and your Brotherhood of Death! You and your kind drove us out of our homeland and forced us into hiding. You made us live like animals, KNOWING that we are the superior life form.

Milo traced down his left leg to his boot holster.

"Your kind has done nothing but prey on my race since the beginning of time." Milo replied. " You're not a superior life form. You're a disease! A goddamn disease that has to be stopped before it destroys everything!"

He braced his hand around the pearl handle of his last silver dagger.

"Self righteous humans." The Thing almost chuckled

Steady

"You can't win. We will stop you!"

Steady

"Is that right, Mr. Vampire Killer. Well, if that day does happen to befall this world, I'm afraid that you won't be around to see it!!" It was the creature's last words.

Milo heard the beast's scuffling feet running across the cellar floor. It was coming!

NOW!

With the precision that took him thirteen years to develop, Milo pulled to dagger from its holster, twirled it around it around his index finger until the blade was resting in his grasp, and threw it blindly in the direction of the scuffling. He immediately heard the a 'slice' sound; the kind of sound you heard when you cut an apple in half. The scuffling suddenly stopped and was quickly reversed.

The creature was falling backwards...

The demon fell onto the shelf which Milo first collided with. On instinct alone, Milo reached into his pocket and grabbed his revolver. With no hesitation he aimed and fired in the vampire's direction. The four remaining shots from the gun produced a strobe light effect. Through it, Milo saw that he had struck the demon directly between the eyes and at that moment the thing was trying to pull it out.

He quickly got on all fours and started to crawl for the cellar steps. He was preying that the door wasn't locked from the outside. His wounded hand ran into the bottom step which sent Milo's face slamming into the second step. But he didn't feel it. He quickly began to shuffle up the stairs. Just as he reached the doors' inside handles, a monstrous roar escaped from behind him and instantly later, the Thing flung himself on top of him. He then felt the hot breath of the creature as its teeth sank onto his exposed neck.

"No!!!!!" he cried as the thing tried to pull him back. He held a firm grip on the door handles and wouldn't let go. Pain and then numbness rush through his neck and half way down his right arm. He was feeling weary. The venom was quickly working on his nervous system. His will was slowly fading as the thing ravaged on his neck like pit bull.

He had one chance.

With all the strength left in him, he pulled himself as close to the doors as possible. With one final attempt for survival he pulled his right hand free of the door handle and hit it with everything he had. His grip was broken. He and the creature toppled down the small flight of steps and landed back on the cellar floor.

The cellar door flung open which sent a dim, yet effective glow of sunlight into the cellar and on top of them. Rays of light traveled like laser beams through the dusty atmosphere and engulfed the undead beast. The Creature let out a scream of pain which almost shattered Milo's eardrums. Flesh oozed onto him where the creature held him close.

It let go of him.

It tried to crawl away from the sun's rays, but it was too late. Its entire body combusted into a figure of blue and gold flames. When there was nothing left to burn, his body began to decompose until there was nothing left but a pile of ashes. Milo pulled himself onto his feet and kicked the dust around to separate it; preventing it from healing itself. The wound on his neck was thriving with pain; but it was a good pain. He knew that it was already healing due to the destruction of the virus' central system, the vampire.

He started to walk toward the cellar stairs when a hand of blue and gold flames grasped the top of the stairway. Milo knew that the second vampire was caught by the sunrise and was now pulling himself into the cellar to escape the bright death.

He backed away and scanned the dirt floor. Buried in the first vampire's ashes was his silver dagger. Quickly he reached for it when the thing screamed at the top of the steps. Dagger in hand, he turned to witness the thing's dive from the top of the stairs. From instinct, Milo covered his face and braced himself for the creature's impact.

But there was none.

The only thing he felt was the brush of dust pass by him in the wind. The thing's prolonged exposure to the sun had taken its toll and reduced the second vampire to dust.

"Jake?" He called to his friend as he made his way up the stairway...

Now standing over Jake's grave, he felt more helpless than ever. He had the impulse to grab a shovel and start digging; maybe somehow rescue him from that ultimate prison that he too someday would face. Factually, he knew Jake was more than just six feat under a pile of leaves before him. He was literally another world away. Out of his pocket, he pulled a shiny silver pendant and dropped it onto the mound of dirt.

"Starting today, Jake. They all pay. Every last goddamn one of them." He knelt beside the dirt mound. "The visions seem to be pointing south, Los Angeles maybe." He gently planted the pendant beside the cross. "That's my final destination, man. The gathering spot for the last wing-ding. But I got a surprise for those little shits. A little something I've been working on for awhile. A tiny little explosive which will probably rip their immortal bodies to pieces!"

He whimpered for a second. The strong breeze began to pick up; as if someone gave him a recognition of acceptance.

"Rest in peace..."

The mourning period for him had now passed. He grabbed his duffel bag and proceeded to his red Nova; the motor already running. In no time, he was on the highway heading for the final battleground; the City Of Angels.

He didn't see the silver pendant slowly being pulled under the mound

THE END