SLAYER, SLEW, SLAIN
By Niels van Eekelen
TelltaleProd@Hotmail.com
www.TelltaleProductions.tk
When I pulled myself together, there in the crane driver's cabin, it was maybe an hour after sunrise. Immediately, I left town. As simple as that. I left Maria's body where it lay. It was too hard to even look at her. Too hard to make myself believe that she was really gone. I didn't go back to the aprtment, either. What was there for me in that place, except some clothes, some CDs, some weapons that I didn't believe would do any good against Kakistos anyway?
There was a train station on the other side of the industrial park, a five-minutes' walk. It took me much longer to drag my mangled body over there, but I made it. I was too numb, racked with pain, and plainly exhausted to think, so it was more luck than anything else that the train I snuck onto to hitch a ride left Boston fairly soon. It was a lucky break as well that I didn't have to share my wagon with any bums.
I must have fallen asleep somewhere along the line, because a few hours later I awoke with a start at the sound of a whistle. After giving it a try, I decided that jumping to my feet was a very bad idea. Checking my wounds, I found that practically all of the bleeding had stopped. No signs of infection yet, though from the smell of whatever it was I was lying in, that was only a matter of time. I realised then for the first time that the train was standing still.
Forcing my limbs to move was less than pleasant. I managed, and got out of the wagon. The train I had come in on was just one of dozens that were there, nicely lit by the evening sun. There were men there, moving from train to train, from wagon to wagon. They were probably checking for hitch-hikers like me. Though the men could very clearly enjoy the sunlight without bursting into flame, I chose to stay out of their way. Even in my present condition, my Slayerness allowed me to pass by them unseen.
Hospitals. Not exactly my favourite places in the world, but they're what you might call a necessary evil. No matter how fast Slayers heal, bones still don't set themselves. Also, it takes a lot of energy to heal a body, and I hadn't had a bite to eat in almost twenty-four hours. I knew that finding a hospital was really the only choice I had.
To my surprise, I discovered that I was in Buffalo, all the way across New York State. I'd never been there, or had had any desire to go. It was perfect. Kakistos couldn't possibly track a trail that was completely random.
The sunlight was dying rapidly now, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I finally discovered a signpost pointing me to a hospital. As I followed the signs, still avoiding people as much as possible, I tried to come up with a halfway believable story for my condition. I could probably spin a good tale--if no one asked me for details.
After what seemed to me like hours and miles and miles, I could see the hospital up ahead. Still cradling my arm, I limped into the emergency room. "Hey, some help here?" I croaked. Vaguely, I saw two nurses turning their heads towards me--a young, decent-looking guy and a middle-aged woman--and their faces going from surprise to alarm. The room began to spin around me. I just couldn't understand how it could do that. The male nurse caught me, barely in time. I think he asked me what had happened to me. Not sure. Anyway, I murmured, "Attacked..." and promptly lost consciousness.
When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed, an IV drip in my arm, the smell of disinfectants in my nose. I looked around sleepily, wondering where I was but being quite content with it, before memory suddenly returned.
For the first time since her death, I thought of Maria. A sharp pang of pain--ironically similar to being staked--hit me, and immediately shook me wide awake. Shaking off the bed covers, I looked at my wounds. I was still pretty stiff, but a good night's sleep had done me a lot of good. There were thick layers of bandages around my leg and my stomach, and my right arm was in a cast. Worst of all, I was wearing one of those hospital nightshirts. I wondered for a moment if that guy, the male nurse, who had caught me had undressed me. I was all for letting him see me naked, but not under these circumstances.
Suddenly, voices sounded from outside the room. I froze only for a moment, and then quickly pulled straight the covers and closed my eyes.
"Hold on there, officers!" a male voice sounded, muted through the closed door.
"What is it?" a gruff voice replied.
"You can't go in there. That patient is still recovering from surgery. I can't let you disturb her.
"Listen... Ben, isn't it... we've just been over this with Dr Byrne. This girl Faith Mandorf, she's no angel. She's got a file thicker than your medical textbooks over at the juvenile delinquency office in Boston. If she--"
"Right now, the girl is recovering from some terrible trauma. She's hardly posing a threat to anyone."
"If she has brought some kind of gang war feud to Buffalo, I need to know about it."
"Look, she's probably still under, anyway."
"And if she isn't, she is going to answer my questions. Dr Byrne says I can talk to her. The law says I can talk to her. More importantly, I say I can talk to her, kiddo."
There was some more unhappy muttering, and then I could hear the door to my room opening. I lay very still.
"You see?" the younger voice said triumphantly, sounding much louder now that the door was open. She's still asleep. You can come back later."
"We will," the other voice promised. "Don't worry, we will."
The door closed.
"Fuck!" I muttered under my breath. Of course I had ID somewhere in a pocket. I hadn't thought of that, and now they knew who I was. Worse than that they might try to arrest me for something, much worse, was that they had obviously contacted Boston. That meant that I couldn't trust that I was safe from Kakistos in Buffalo anymore.
When I was certain that the police had left, I quietly got out of bed. I found my clothes neatly folded in the cupboard. My shirt was gone, though--the people from the hospital had probably given it up as a lost cause. My pants and jacket weren't about to win me any beauty contests, either, but I could still wear them, and that was all that mattered. I kept on the nightshirt beneath my jacket.
Well, so much for my stay at the hospital. I would have liked to stay for at least one solid meal, but as the saying goes, beggars can't be chosers. Making a run for it or sitting in a cell waiting for Trick and Kakistos to turn up was no choice at all.
Pathetically enough, that was the way of my life for most of the rest of that summer. A few weeks long, almost as soon as I'd arrive in a place, something happened that gave me away to Kakistos, and I fled once again.
After a little while, I began to reclaim my life. I still ran ahead of Kakistos, but it became more of a habit than my reason of existence. I even started going out nights again, to patrol. Fortunately, I didn't encounter any major league baddies straight away. A vampire here and there, a small pack of hellhounds one night in the zoo in Atlanta. All just enough to help me rebuild my confidence.
I had never felt so alone as I did then, but I pretended that there was nothing new under the sun. Or the stars. Whenever I wanted company, I could let company pick me up in a bar.
Surviving was still a big issue, though. Not the kind most people would worry about, the part with the monsters and the life and death struggles and all, but food and a bed at night. I wasn't exactly loaded. Beds, like I said, I could usually get fairly easily, but the food cost money. One night, a solution presented itself to me. Back then, it didn't seem like anything, but in hindsight, it feels like one of the moments where I sank that much lower.
It was... I think it was on my last night in Antlanta. I was patrolling the business district, figuring that vamps would love to prey on all those who were working late. Birds of a feather flock together, after all, and vampires aren't above a bit of cannibalism. I was both right and too late. The two vampires had pretty much sucked the suit dry when I found them. From the looks of them, the vamps were a late hooker and one of her Johns. Whoever had turned them had not fed them enough of their blood to give the two a more than animal intelligence, and I dispatched them without much effort. I hadn't eaten anything yet, that day. My wallet contained three entire cents. Maybe that explains why I did it.
So, after dusting the vampires, I went to check on their victim. The guy was a goner, I'd seen that as soon as I arrived on the scene, but I had to be sure. There was, of course, no pulse. What there was, though, was a fat wallet in the guy's hand. Like many before him, he had thought that the vampires were only muggers, after his money, and he'd hastened to give them what he thought they wanted. Just from how fat it was, I could tell that there was a lot of money in there. And I knew I could use it.
"See," I told myself firmly. "Want. Take." Even so, I felt pretty guilty for a while afterward. It went away after I treated myself to a sweet pair of new leather pants off the guy's money. Frankly, I figure that I deserved it. I'd done my best to save the man, and with all the people I had saved, I deserved better than clothes patched up with my abominable sewing skills. I got some weapons, too. OK, OK, I stole the weapons. A bit of a decent crossbow costs an arm and a leg, you know that? That was one use for Watchers that I had never had to think about before.
And off I was again. I hooked up with Kenny, a drummer in some shitty band. The better I got to know Kenny, the more of a loser he turned out to be. Still, he was willing and able, and let me sleep over the rest of the night, and that was really all I needed from him. Even better, his band--damn, what was their name again?--they were touring, going the same direction I was. Having the time to get to know my boy-toy wasn't much of an advantage, but it was a relief to know where I could sleep for a while.
Our next stop was New Orleans. Actually a place I'd always wanted to visit. The city was as wicked as I'd imagined. I met a Voodoo priestess the first day there. The woman didn't seem to be up to any dark mojo, though, so I left her alone.
The following night, I was attacked by two vampires. These vamps were pretty good, nothing like those in Atlanta. I recognised them. They belonged to Kakistos. I went berserk. Knocking one of the vamps to the ground, I straddled him and started beating him to a pulp, taking his return blows in stride. I was just so angry that I couldn't stop. All I wanted at that moment was for Kakistos to pay, and if I couldn't have Kakistos, I'd make due with his minions, or any vampire I could get my hands on.
The vampire was out cold, had been for a while, and he'd've been dead if he had been mortal. I didn't care. I didn't stop beating on him until the other vamp hit me over the head with something heavy enough to knock me to the ground.
Crouching down, the vampire leaned in to feed on me. As if I hadn't figured it out yet, he chanted, "For Kakistos we live... For Kakistos, you die." Fortunately, I still had a stake on me, and the vamp evaporated into dust with his fangs just inches from my neck.
That same night, I left Kenny and the band--The Cockroaches! That was what they were called. God, an accurate name if I ever heard one. The attack had happened right outside the place where they were playing their gig, and I couldn't be sure that wasn't how the vamps had found me. New Orleans, too, I left behind. Moving on was fast becoming my specialty.
All the way from Boston to New Orleans, and still I didn't figure out that I was being herded south.
Story written by Niels van Eekelen. © Copyright 2004 Telltale Productions.
In a perfect world, I would own the series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and 'Angel'. Alas, it is not, and I bow my head to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Ah, well. It's probably for the best, me not having a contract to put the show on the air and all.
A special thanks to Paul Leone and Teresa Owens, from whose story 'The Deliverer' I nicked the name of Faith's Watcher, though not the character.