You know, if someone had told me a few years ago that I would be hunting monsters for a living, I would have thought that person was bat-shit insane. I mean, when all this started I didn't think I was cut out for … well anything hunting the supernatural entails. What I found out is that you don't need to have the phisique of a UFC fighter, though it helps. No what you really need in order to be a good hunter is a flexible mind, because you come up against a lot of shit that defies the laws of physics. And if you can see some shit happen, and your brain says "okay that was weird … let's put a few hundred bullets in it and see what happens," you'll fit right in.

On all the nights my story started, I was introduced to the existence of the supernatural on Halloween. Don't get me wrong, I love Halloween. Candy's good, my 23 year old ass still goes trick-or-treating, though with a 12 year old little sister that's unavoidable. But my favorite thing is, that all month, there are really good horror movies on tv. Unfortunately, I was unable to enjoy any of those things this particular Halloween. Nope, I was stuck working.

I worked at a local grocery store in Syracuse New York … well, the correct term is grocery chain, called Wegmans. It started as nothing more than a produce stand in Rochester New York almost a hundred years ago run by two brothers by the name of Wegman, and now it's a widely popular chain of stores stretching from New York to South Carolina. Now I didn't mind the position I was in, as it paid enough for me to afford my own place. However this particular store's management staff … holy crap were they incompetent. Every single store manager we've had in the time I've been with the company, has never managed more than a few months before being canned. And if the rumors that went around the store were true, every single time that's happened, has been because of either sexual harassment, or unflattering racial remarks. Which is pretty messed up, especially considering my store had a very diverse customer and employee base.

My department manager and assistant manager weren't much better. While they aren't guilty of anything along the lines of what the previous store managers have done, they did fit the bill of being incompetent morons. Why do you ask? These two had been with the company for twenty plus years, and to me and the rest of my department, it felt like they treated every day they were working like it was their first day. It felt like they had no idea on how anything in the department worked. Our department manager had no idea on how to make a decent work schedule, so the part-timers hours suffered severely. He also trusted nobody but himself or his assistant manager to write up the current and coming weeks schedule. They never worked either. They'd show up, clock in, and then sit their fat asses in front of our department's computer for their entire shift. Only time they would get their asses away from it, was if our district manager or the company's owners showed up.

Now because of how big the company is, and how many stores there are in the Syracuse area, a lot of people in full-time and managerial positions end up transferring to different stores in the area. Now I know what you're going to say: 'Just be patient, they'll be transferred soon.' Yeah … these two idiots have been in that store for the last three years. I swear, my store is where all the incompetent moronic higher ranking employees with bad reputations are sent to basically 'retire'. 'Well why don't you transfer to a different store?' Tried that, and my transfer request got denied by … yeah you guessed it, the dynamic incompetent duo.

But you're not here to listen to me rant about the idiots that I was forced to work with. You're reading this because you want to hear about guns and the things I killed with them. Like I said, when I got introduced to the supernatural I was closing my department on Halloween, when I heard my name being called over the store's intercom.

"Alex to the back room. Alex Morrison to the back room please."

Great. What was broken this time? Rolling my eyes, I pulled my phone out of my pocket checking the time. 8:30pm. Wonderful, that meant I only had a half-hour left to finish up closing my department, and I was already behind (blame the incompetence of the head of my department), now I had to deal with whatever was in the back room someone wanted me to deal with. And that was undoubtedly gonna set me back a ways. But I had better see what the problem was in the back.

I made my way off the sale's floor, and cut through the produce cooler, which led to the back loading docks. Everything looked okay here. Two of the four truck docks were currently occupied. One had our salvage truck which was loaded with unused wooden and plastic pallets. The other was a refer (refrigerated) truck which was loaded from front to back with frozen turkeys. We liked to get a head start on the Thanksgiving sales here. No problem here, that meant something was wrong with either the trash compactor, or the cardboard bailer. And the smart money was always on the cardboard bailer.

I wasn't wrong either. About 35-40 feet away, and behind a cinder block wall was where our store's trash compactor and cardboard bailer were. There's about a 6x4 foot 'doorway' (really just a hole in that cinder block wall) that led to both machines, and a very irritated groan escaped me when I saw what the problem was.

Hope you didn't put your money on the trash compactor being the problem, I'd try and get your money back if I were you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" I growled, rolling my eyes in irritation. There were about ten L-carts piled high with cardboard boxes, all in front of the cardboard bailer. Well, better see what the problem was. The bailer's hydraulic press was all the way down, which clearly meant that the thing was not coming back up for whatever reason. Sure enough, when I pressed the 'up' button on the bailer's control panel, there was the telltale buzz and click that meant the bailer was busted.

"Nope. Nope, I'm not dealing with this tonight..." I said once again to myself, as I made to turn around and finish up closing my department. That's when I realized that someone had been standing behind me, and damn did they make me jump. Now I'm not a real jumpy guy, but there are always exceptions. The biggest one being anything resembling Jason Voorhees' hockey mask, to which I'll explain later.

This particular exception was a guy in his early twenties -like myself- I'm not sure what his hair color was, as his entire upper torso, head, face, and everything was drenched in what I believed at the time to be 'fake' blood. I mean it looked like he'd just gone through a SAW-style trap. But the part that was really creeping me out was his creepy psychotic smile.

"Woah! Oh man, don't sneak up on a guy like that!" I exclaimed, backing up a few steps, as my right hand instinctively went for the large pocket of my khakis. I had a compact Sig 226 9mm in that pocket. Now Wegmans like most other workplaces had this strict no gun policy, however I had a card in my wallet that allowed me to legally violate that policy. And it was a very special card as well, as it allowed me to carry concealed just about anywhere. But the amount of hoops I had to jump through in order to get that special permit almost wasn't worth it … almost. "Hey buddy, nice costume but you can't be back here. Customers aren't allowed back here, plus there's no party back here."

"Well…" He said, tilting his head, his smile widening giving this guy a really creepy vibe, "there's about to be a party back here."

I had no time to react. No time to get out of the way, no time to get my Sig out of my pocket, nothing. I felt the air leave my lungs, and saw stars pop in front of my eyes, as this guy tackled me … well it was more along the lines of a spear, like Goldberg's or Edge's, which is why I got the wind knocked out of me.

I was vaguely aware of cardboard boxes flying into the air as the two of us fell towards the concrete floor. Whoever this guy was, must have knocked us back into the mountain of boxes that were stacked in front of the cardboard bailer. Oh! Speaking of the concrete floor, let me tell you that landing on it back first is not a pleasant experience. If there was any air left in my lungs when this guy spear tackled me, it was gone when I hit the floor.

I saw more stars pop in front of my eyes, but I must have gotten my leg up into this guy's stomach or crotch, because I felt him roll off me.

"Fuck…"

I was struggling to get air into my lungs. If you've ever gotten the wind knocked out of you super hard like I did just now, you'll know how painful and how hard it is to do so. As if that wasn't enough, over the pain of having the air knocked out of my lungs, I also felt a lance of pain shoot up my left arm starting from my left wrist, and ending at my shoulder.

Slowly sucking the air back into my lungs, I blinked the stars out of my eyes. The room slowly came back into focus. The guy who had speared me, was lying prone a few feet away from me. There was a large dent in his forehead. Guy must have hit one of the metal shelves that had all the miscellaneous stuff for the other departments. Well with that huge dent in his head, he wasn't getting back up.

Oh how wrong I was to believe that. Not two seconds after I processed that thought, did that guy sit up. That dent in his head slowly vanished, as if it was never there in the first place. "What the hell!?"

"Well, that was unpleasant." The guy that tackled me said, cracking his neck. As if having a sizable dent in your skull, and then having it vanish was just a minor inconvenience.

"What the hell are you?" I asked, barely registering that I'd drawn my compact Sig.

"Me? I'm not really sure. Though if I had to say, I guess you can call me a vampire." He said, that psychotic smile back on his face.

I stroked my Sig's trigger twice. I saw him jerk twice as two 9mm hollow points hit this guy square in the chest. He went down, causing me to breathe a sigh of relief. So much for that talk about being a vampire… And then in the back of my mind, that part of me that loves horror movies and monsters began putting things together. If the information on vampires based on all the movies I've seen are true, they're weak to a number of things. Crosses, garlic, and holy water being the big three. Sunlight and a wooden stake to the chest are the two things that I know of that can kill a vampire. And then I remembered all the episodes of Supernatural that I've watched detailing vampires. That show explained that the only way to kill one, is decapitation.

Guess that explained why I wasn't as surprised as I should have been, when this so-called vampire got back to his feet. I was more shocked when the two bullets I put into him came back out.

Shit.

He charged at me again, and dropped again. I stroked the trigger twice more, and on a hunch I aimed at the guy's head to see whether or not a headshot would be more effective. He dropped right at my feet, and I put two more rounds into the back of his head. Something I learned from watching zombie films, and playing Left 4 Dead, is to always double-tap.

Almost automatically, I grabbed the department mobile phone on my belt. I dialed the number for the in-store night manager, as I had to tell them that I had been attacked by … well deciding to tell whoever was in-store tonight that a vampire had attacked me seemed like a crazy thought, even on Halloween. In retrospect, it may have been a good decision.

"In-store." A male's voice answered over the line.

"Steve, it's Alex. Look, I need you to call the cops." I explained, backing away from my attacker, but keeping my compact Sig trained on him. "I was just attacked by a crazy person in the back room, and I had to shoot him."

"You did what!?" Steve exclaimed, causing me to hold the phone away from my ear. Which was right when the vampire started to get back to his feet.

"Oh shit … look Steve, I don't have time for stupid shit, just call the fucking cops!" I pressed the end call button, and put the last two rounds in my Sig's magazine into the vampire's head. The slide locked back, and I ejected the empty mag, and fished in the side pocket for one of the two spare magazines I always carried with me. I slammed it in, and the slide came forward to chamber the first round. In the back of my mind I knew that my 9mm hollow points weren't gonna cut it, and the cops were not gonna get here in time.

I needed heavier firepower, and for that I needed to get to my truck. And that opened up a whole bunch of mental quandry's. What if this guy decides to go after someone else? What if I can't get to my truck in time? What if he starts to adapt, and my 9mm's stop affecting him? I didn't like the conclusion I had arrived at, but I didn't see any other option. I was gonna have to get this guy to chase me. It may get me shot at by the cops if they got here faster than I thought, but if I could put this vampire down in the process, it might be worth it.

"This is the complete opposite of what I wanted to do tonight." I said to myself, opening the emergency exit which was only a few feet behind me. And to my momentary surprise, Steve had forgotten to lock it. Oh well, that worked out for me, and luckily I always keep my truck parked behind the store, just a few feet away from the emergency exit. "Come on you son of a bitch, get back up."

Oh the son of a bitch got back up. And to say he was pissed would be an understatement, but for lack of a better term, yeah he was pissed. He charged at me, but the odd thing was that it felt like he was moving in slow motion. Slow enough for me to slam the door in his face. Sure it sounds comical, but it worked. The vampire reeled, but wasn't knocked off his feet, which was good as I wanted his attention on me.

"You want me, come get me asshole!" Thinking back on it, taunting a vampire was not the best of ideas, but it worked to keep his attention strictly on me. I ran down a small set of metal stairs, letting go of the emergency exit door, which automatically swung back closed. Or at least it would have, if it wasn't blasted off it's hinges a few seconds later. Chancing a glance back over my shoulder, I saw that the vampire had shoulder charged the door, destroying the frame and a portion of the small and rather flimsy railing. The door went skidding along the pavement for a few feet, but all I cared about at that time was the vampire. He had sort of surfed along the pavement on top of the door, but was already back on his feet.

By that time, I had gotten to my truck and got the latch down. What I had for an ...for lack of a better term: arsenal, wasn't anything too extravagant. College loans, and rent tend to put a pretty serious dent on one's bank account. When it came to guns, my thought process was: If I can afford the ammo, I can afford the weapon. And what I could afford was .22 .9mm and 12 gage. .308 was out of my price range, so that meant there wasn't a rifle in my trunk. .45 was also out of the question as it was pricey as hell. I did have a military issue 1911 which was an 18th birthday gift from my dad, but that weapon was currently running a .22 conversion. Just to make it easier on my bank account.

Getting off topic. Back to the situation at hand. I didn't have a lot of time before that vampire was back on me, so I just grabbed the closest thing I had, which turned out to be my Super Shorty. It's a compact pump action shotgun fitted for 2-2 ½ inch shells. It only held three shells at a time, making the weapon a two pump chump, but I doubt even a vampire could stand up to buckshot at contact range.

I turned around, and my stomach turned over. The vampire wasn't 5 feet away from me, and I'd be within striking range in a split-second. But instead of freezing up, I struck out with the butt of the shotgun catching the vampire on the lower left side of his jaw. That stunned him, and sent him back a few steps. Just what I needed. The safety was off, and there was practically no need to aim at this range.

BOOM!

That vampire went spinning almost comically to the ground when I fired my first round in my small shotgun. I had hit him in the shoulder, as I didn't really aim. Point blank range remember? My ears were ringing, as I didn't have anything to cancel out the sound of the gunshot. Anyone who's fired any gun without ear protection knows what that high-pitched ringing sounds like. Also, on that note Tinnitus is no joke. Just ask Archer.

I shook my head, trying to rid my ears of the ringing, albeit it was a futile attempt. I cycled the action of my shotgun, and moved up in an attempt to finish this vampire off, which was when something grabbed my leg, and violently pulled me down. I hit the ground hard, and brilliant colored stars exploded in front of my eyes. Combined with the now searing numb pain in my left leg. A pair of strong hands then grabbed me by the front of my shirt, and lifted me up. Blinking the stars out of my eyes, I saw the vampire was the one that had grabbed me.

BOOM!

My ears were ringing something bad, and I was dropped. Another lance of pain shot up my leg, and I swore so vehemently that it would have made Gunnery Sergeant Hartman blush. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I had blasted a hole in the chest of the vampire. It went spinning a few feet away, leaving me to collapse painfully to the ground right onto my broken left leg. Blinking the tears and the stars out of my eyes, I very slowly got up. I had to use my truck for support, because my left leg couldn't support my weight. One of my hands closed around the box of shotgun shells, which was odd, because I hadn't realized that I was doing so. I later chalked it up to muscle memory, and my flight or fight instinct being stuck on fight.

Snick, snick, cha-chck! My Super Shorty was back up at full, which was good, because that vampire was getting back to its feet. Or at least it was trying to do so, before a round of double-aught buckshot blew his right kneecap out. Payback you ugly son of a bitch. He had gone down again, howling in pain. I guess even a vampire can feel pain if you blast out a knee. But there wasn't time to celebrate that fact, as his blown out knee had begun to regenerate.

"Oh that is some bullshit!" I snarled, blowing out the same knee again, causing the vampire to collapse. That lower leg was now barely hanging on by barely an inch of skin, but it was starting to heal. So I used my last round, to completely take the leg off while using the brick wall for support, to make my way back around to the emergency exit. I didn't have anything in my truck that would take the thing's head off, save my Super Shorty, and there was no way in hell I wanted to be that close. I mean if that was the case, I'd have to shove the entire barrel of the small shotgun down the fucker's throat. And there was no way that decapitating a vampire with a shotgun could ever work. No, I needed something with an edge. And even through all the pain filled haze, I remembered there was something close by. We had somewhat of a cross between a sledgehammer and an axe near the trash compactor. I wasn't sure of the sharpness of the axe, but it was all I really had to go on.

I continued to curse, as I made my lopsided way up those metal stairs, and back into the store. I had just gotten my left hand to close around the haft of the weapon, when I was whirled about. My stomach dropped. The vampire had fully regenerated the wounds I had delivered to his knees, and he looked pissed. He backhanded my shotgun out of my hand, and I saw in almost slow motion, as the weapon went spinning through the air. And in that same moment, I felt another lance of pain, this time in my shoulder as it was dislocated. But there wasn't any time to register that for any longer than a split-second. A fist hit me in the ribs, and I swore all of them broke. I nearly blacked out from pain as my back hit metal, which was the metal swing-out door of the trash compactor. I tasted copper in my mouth, as I hit the door. Either I had spat up, or vomited blood. I was too hazy, or delirious from pain to know or really care which one it was. "Fuck-oh fuck!"

I cursed again, as breathing hurt. But it also felt like my shoulder had popped back into place, and if you've ever had to reset a dislocated limb, you know how it feels. I swear it's worse than having the limb dislocate in the first place. My right hand still had a grip on the haft of the axe. Small comfort considering the state I was in. I managed to blink enough of the bright colored stars out of my eyes to see that the vampire was charging at me. Fuck it. I was going down anyways, so why not go down swinging? The haft of the axe snapped and splintered, as I brought it down. It had stuck in the vampire's skull, a good portion of the axe embedded in the skull of the vamp before the weapon gave out. The vampire staggered back a few paces, before charging me again. I put my full weight into what I did next. Having not let go of that axe even after it had broken, I rammed the now stake into the chest of the vampire where I thought his heart was. Only stopping when my hand met his chest. Oh my god, the unearthly scream that left it. I still have nightmares about that scream. It was worse than discharging a firearm without proper ear protection. Still the force of his momentum pressed me back against the wall of the compactor, but he then went up and over me, and down ten feet into the bed of the compactor.

Die screaming mother fu-" My curse was drowned out by the loud mechanical whirr of the heavy ten ton hydraulic press. I pressed the activation button with my good arm. And had hopefully crushed the vampire into a pulp. At least I hope I did, because I had no strength left. If that thing got up from that, I was screwed. I had no more strength to fight him off. Not to mention I'd be easy prey, since I had passed out seconds later.