CHAPTER 7 - EXODUS (revised)

"Doc! What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Kate yelled.

Alex felt the rush of anger surge through Doc right before he dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned to face his angry companion. "Why Kate, I can't remember the last time you entered a kitchen." His icy composure was back and surprisingly stronger than before. "What do you want?" He snarled stepping forward, partially shielding Alex with his body.

Doc's irate response had taken Kate off guard. She quickly took in the dark expression on his face and they way he hovered protectively in front of the startled blonde. It was Kate's first clue to how seriously her lover was considering trading up. Realizing her world was in jeopardy; she narrowed her blue eyes and studied her competition.

The prim, straight-laced cook, with her plain hairstyle and stain-ridden apron did not appear to be the type of woman who would take up with a gambler with Doc's reputation, and yet the freshly shed tears on the woman's face told another tale. A familiar odor lingering in the room had the saloon whore looking rapidly around for evidence. There on the table, a hasty meal shared over hot cups of tea but the fresh drops of red on the table could not be mistaken and on the floor there was more blood. Lying next to it was a forgotten crucifix. The blood soaked hanky dangling from the outer pocket of Doc's coat gave her a more detailed report. Mystery solved, Kate thought. Apparently, Doc had a coughing spell, scaring Alex into tears and prayers. But was he calming her fears or pleading with her to accept him in spite of his condition? Each explanation had only one conclusion – he cared for this woman and that was motive enough for Kate to attack.

"Did I interrupt your latest seduction, Doc?" Jerking her chin toward Alex she prepared to issue her first insult. "I would not have thought your romantic interest gravitated towards the help. You have always pursued a more genteel conquest." Stepping further into the room, Kate slammed the kitchen door closed behind her, while preparing to transfer her attention from Doc toward Alex, beaming furiously at the blonde cook. "Did you think you were special? The first to fall under his spell?" She smiled coldly. "Well sweetheart, I'm here to tell you, you're not. You are one of many."

Doc stepped forward and grabbed Kate roughly by her arm. "Kate, that's enough!" He hissed with such force Alex was afraid he would start to cough again.

"Oh, how right you are, Doc. It is enough!" She struggled to free her arm from his grasp. "I'm leaving."

"Sooner then you think if you don't stop your ranting." With determination, he began to drag her towards the door.

But Kate was not through with Alex yet. Digging in her heels, she pointed one manicured finger in Alex's direction. "You remember this, he always comes back to me, and do you know why? Because I am the only one who will put up with his sickness and his depraved drunken habit, that's why. All the others soon grow tired of cleaning up after him. That is, if they don't catch his cough first."

"That's enough!" Doc roared. Grabbing her roughly around the waist, he jerked the door open and tossed her bodily out of the kitchen and into the saloon.

Through all of this Alex hadn't moved from her spot by the back door. Her whole body vibrated from the shock of the confrontation. So, that's why they stay together, she thought.

She could hear their fight continue out in the saloon, growing louder by the second. Words spoken in anger rang out over the general atmosphere. Kate's voice becoming shrill, calling Doc a two-timing son of a bitch. Doc answered first with bitter laughter before tossing back a vulgar four-letter word. Finally, Alex heard Virgil's voice rise above the ruckus as he ordered Kate and Doc to leave and take their fight elsewhere.

"Oh, God." Alexis squeaked. "Poor Doc."

The impulse to break free and to run as far as she could from the reality she had inadvertently stumbled upon was overwhelming. But still she stood frozen, stunned, as she looked about the now empty kitchen and the evidence the turbulent evening had left behind. Two dirty teacups and a sink full of food stained dishes. A rumpled dishtowel, not to mention blood splattered apron, shoes and floor. "Bloody hell, indeed." She cursed and stooped to pick up the rosary she had dropped on the floor.

Alex raced upstairs to her room, and quickly began to change into the clothes she wore on patrol – her old tried and true wardrobe. Black leather pants, matching leather jacket that fell just below her hips and black boots. Under her jacket she wore a specially constructed vest that held the tools of her trade: wooden throwing darts, several sharp stakes, a ten-inch knife, and a 9mm handgun. Strapped to her hip was a leather sheath that held her favorite sword, a Scottish Claymore, a gift from Malachi when she had passed her initiation trials to become a Guardian. To top the outfit she wrapped around her shoulders the black cloak with hood that Father Martin had lent her.

"The Figure in Black rides again." She mumbled to herself, while climbing out the bedroom window, eager for a fight that would release the tension of the evening's events.

Fortune was in her favor. On the south side of town she found two pale looking cowboys leading a pair of girls to a secluded barn that housed the cattle that would be sold at the next auction. As Alex watched them walk towards the building she couldn't help but noticed the subtle signals the men exchanged, then right before they faded into the shadow of the building the one cowboy glanced again at his companion and Alex saw his eyes flash silver when his demonic nature momentarily emerged. The girls were oblivious to the danger they were in as they delicately maneuvered through the dirt road and piles of animal dropping left behind by the horses and cows that trespassed daily through the town streets. As they entered the building she heard one man say something about checking on his cows before taking the girls out to dinner.

With the taste of bile flooding her mouth, Alex quietly followed, circling to the rear of the building with the intent on halting the soon-to-be slaughter. Braced against the outside wall of the barn was a ladder, and above her head an open door that led to the hayloft. The upper level would be an ideal viewpoint. From there she would be unobserved and yet still able to get watch the two vampires and their intended victims. After climbing up Alex crawled close to the edge of the loft and peered down to the scene below. The smell of cow dung and urine immediately assaulted her senses. The urge to breathe through her mouth was strong, but afraid the vampires would detect her respiration with their sensitive hearing she choked back the impulse keeping her respiration soft and shallow.

"Which cows are yours, Tom?" One girl asked. She was a pretty brunette, probably no more than nineteen years of age from what Alex could see in the dusky shadows. The other girl appeared a bit younger, closer to seventeen years old. Judging from the style of dress, Alex could tell they were both town girls, and working ones at that. Intent on applying their trade, both women clung to the arms of their escorts as they walked unknowingly to their death.

Thank God for women's liberation, Alex thought, or most of my sex would still be spreading their legs for any Tom, Dick or Vampire that came along. Tonight she would perform a little liberation of her own.

"Those little heifers over there are mine." The first cowboy-vampire replied while pointing to the darkest corner of the building and also the furthest from any means of escape, Alex noticed. "How 'bout you sweetness, want to be my heifer too?" Grabbing her close, he nuzzled into girl's neck, and Alex could almost hear the dinner bell ringing.

Together the vampires steered their prey towards the back of the building; the girls giggling and flirting the entire time, walking blindly toward their death. It always amazed Alex how the unsuspecting public would rationalize any sign or appearance of the supernatural. As she watched the women amble along with the demons, she wanted to shout or scream, 'don't you sense something is wrong, or unnatural? Isn't the hair along the back of your neck standing on end? Doesn't your flesh creep every time you make contact with his cold body?' But at one time, not long ago, Alex had lived in ignorant bliss, going from one day to the next never knowing if the man she passed on the street was a vampire or not. Such things didn't exist in a normal world. It was only after her initiation into the Guardians that her blinders were removed. Today, she could spot a vampire at sixty paces.

Using a rope that held a large wench, Alex slid silently to the ground floor, easing her way through the shadows along the opposite side of the barn; her dark cloak seamlessly blending her form against the darkness.

She heard another giggle. "Are you calling me a cow, Tom? Tell me handsome, does this breast feel like the teat of a cow?"

Crude laughter followed. "Well, I don't know sweetness? What do you think Frank? Does your gal have a teat like a cow?"

"Maybe, maybe not Tom. Either way they're both dead meat."

From the sounds of the girl's screams Alex surmised the moment of revelation was upon them. She stepped out of the shadows and made her presence known. "Hi boys, can anyone join the fun?"

When they turned to face her she struck. Reaching under her cloak she pulled the first throwing dart from her vest, and sent it rocketing toward the nearest vampire. He never had a chance to move. Probably didn't know what hit him. Alex heard a soft popping sound as his body exploded into dust. She was not so lucky with the second vamp.

Both girls screamed again as the demon advanced. "Tom?" It cried. Yellow eyes and a mouthful of fanged teeth began to bear down on Alex "You killed my brother!"

He swung his fist and Alex easily maneuvered out of reach. When he swung again she grabbed his wrist with her left hand while reaching for his shoulder with her right. Then she pushed down on his shoulder with her right hand while rotating his arm backwards and up. There was a soft popping noise and the vampire screamed in pain.

Alex finished the motion by dipping her upper body down and over the vamp's arm. She heard the cartilage in his shoulder snap when it dislocated from his body. He screamed again and then a third time as her right foot arched over her back and firmly connected with his face.

Keeping a firm grasp on his wrist, Alex pivoted to an upright position and jerked his body forward, ripping his shoulder in the opposite direction. The demon's final scream of pain was abruptly silenced when Alex sank a wooden stake deep into his chest.

"That was too easy." She said when the dust had settled.

The two frightened girls were cowering in the corner. Knowing they couldn't see her face under the cloak, Alex spoke directly to them. "Go home." She said firmly. "And stay off the streets at night." With a brisk stride she walked out the barn door. If she was very lucky she might get to make another kill on her way home.

Excerpts from Alex's Journal – September 1881 (Day 11)

Daybreak –

Two good kills last night. I think the vamps were (big stress on the past tense) Tom and Frank McLaury, who would have both been killed in the O.K. Corral gunfight on the 26th of October. Obviously, the timeline is totally buggered, and there's not much I can do about it now. I will have to worry about the outcome of these events later.

I have more confessing to do first…

I guess now is a good time to mention I performed a small healing last night. I am referring to Doc Holliday of course, but the incident was really my fault. Johnny Ringo, of all people, showed up at the kitchen door last tonight. I offered him some dinner thinking it would be a good idea to question him about his friends and their whereabouts. In the middle of our visit Doc walks in the kitchen. Johnny Ringo was drunk and so was Doc. Did I mention these two men don't get along?

An unspoken challenge was issued. I fully believe they would have fired at each other regardless of where they were and who was sitting by trying to drink her tea. I pleaded for Doc to keep a level head. My plea didn't fall on deaf ears, but it was Johnny Ringo who was man enough to back down. He thanked me for the meal, said he was leaving town in the morning, and walked out the door.

Every western scholar knows John Henry Holliday's temper is legendary, and unfortunately I got a personal taste of it. He thought I was flirting with Ringo and justified his anger by telling me Ringo was a killer and that I was foolish to be associating with him. If you consider things from his chauvinistic viewpoint, he was right. I guess my temper got the better of me. I yelled at Doc first, angrier over the narrowly missed gunfight then his display of jealousy, when he suddenly grabbed me harder then I thought he could, considering his medical condition. He proceeded to shake me all the while yelling rather loudly. It was pretty ugly. When I slapped his face, I was sure he was going to return the favor, but the poor man was suddenly overcome by a coughing fit and began to hemorrhage. I got frightened, and feeling responsible for his attack, I did what I thought was the right thing to do; I healed his bleeding tissue, calmed his lungs and took away his pain. Doc never suspected a thing.

This was my first healing since returning from South America and without a Guardian instructor present. All things considered, I think I did pretty well.

One other noteworthy item to mention, Kate Elder/Fisher, caught Doc alone in the kitchen with me. She was very upset. I hope no problems erupt from this.