Chapter 07: Trouble

"When he calls me kitten
bonny kitten in the middle of the night
I say yes, yes what is it my life?
He says nothing, not really
for the angels I wait
the angels that took you
the angels are late..."

- from "When He Calls Me Kitten" by The Kelley Deal 6000

Weeks passed, and Rider never left his room. At first, Sam and Mark understood, leaving him alone except for when they brought him food and drink; but after awhile they began to grow nervous. King may have been the only vampire left, but the more time they gave him the more likely his making of more, or even skipping town, became.
Finally, one day, while bringing Rider some food; Sam cracked. "Do you even care if the rest of the world gets infected?"
"My brother is gone," Rider groaned, leaving his face berried in his pillow. "What have I to care for?"
"For everyone else's brothers!" She sneered in disgust. "Look, chum, I know you're hurtin', but so am I, and so is Mark; but you don't see us giving up now do ya?"
"You're young... you must have something left to fight for... not so for me."
"No, Rider, we don't! You complain because you watched your brother die. For goddess's sake, Mark watched one of them twist his mother's neck completely around; the only family he had! He's alone in the world now, beside me and a crazy aunt he can't live with anyway!"
"Then he understands... Why do you think he is not in here yelling at me? You know nothing; you're just a woman."
"Don't even start to give me that bull shit! So fuckin' what if I have a vagina instead of a penis? Newsflash; that doesn't change my damned species, you misogynistic prick! And yeah, I know exactly what you're going through. My cousin, the only family member I actually liked, died right before my eyes to save me, and then I had to watch her get staked. I watched her die twice! Then I got to Detroit to find out my dad, the only other person I had left, had been killed by the filth back in the Lot! So don't fucking tell me I don't know!"
Sam was dangerous close to screaming now, but Rider remained unchanged; too depressed to care about anything at all. He simply wanted to be dead, instead of Davis... but nothing would ever bring Davis back, so nothing would ever help him.
"Your words hold no meaning, nothing but spite... your kind are heartless--"
"--Again with the woman bullshit! You know what? Fuck you! You don't even really care about Davis, you just pity yourself! You're upset with yourself because you couldn't save him! Well, guess what; he died to save you! Why in hell aren't you going to do anything about it?"
"It doesn't make any difference," Rider rolled over. "Let them come for me, let them kill me... then I can be with him again... then I can tell him how sorry I am..."
"God, you're only thinking about yourself!" Sam turned away, too repulsed to even look at him anymore. "Look, you may not give a shit anymore, but Mark and I do. So you can choose to help us find him or not--"
"--I already know where he is."
"Excuse me?"
"It was in Stephen's suicide note," Rider opened a drawer, pulling a folded piece of paper out and handing it to her. "Read the first letters all in sequence..."
She unfolded it feverishly. They were all circled in red, spelling out "O-U-R-P-L-A-C-E-D-E-C-E-M-B-E-R-2-7". She gasped, and put the pieces of the puzzle together, thinking aloud; "Our place December 27th. That's today!"
"He'll come for me," Rider smirked. "After that, I know he will... I know he will..."
"You son of a bitch!" she growled. "You were holding this back all along?"
"It doesn't matter--"
"--Yes, yes it does."
"Not anymore," Rider rolled over, pulling the blankets up to his chin again. "Go away now... I want to get some rest before he comes, so that I look nice when I see Davis again. Shew, shew, now; shew, shew..."

Sam flew around the corner, into the living room, stopping only for a second to look for Mark. She spotted him, sitting and staring at the rosary in his hand. She ran jump to him and began speaking in a hurried voice.
"Mark! Rider's gone crazy!"
"You talked to him?"
"Yeah, didn't you hear the shouting?"
"That might explain it..."
"Whatever, look at this," she shoved the paper at him. He took it and flipped it around until it was right side up before him. "It's Stephen's suicide note, but look at the first letters... 'Our place December 27'. Mark, he's referring to King! He must have known that King was gonna come back, so he put the message in there incase anyone would have the eye to look!"
"But that's tonight," Mark thought aloud, before looking up at Sam suspiciously. "... You're thinking we should go alone, aren't you?"
Sam nodded eagerly. "We can't let him live, and Rider's not gonna help us anyway! We don't have a choice, Mark... it's now or never."
"We could die," Mark figured aloud, but nodded slowly nonetheless. "Alright, just... get the shit together; we'll leave as soon as possible."
"You can't say a word to Rider," Sam warned him. "He thinks King is gonna be his savior, which is a bloody crock! But if he knows we're going, he'll try to stop us."
"Yeah," Mark agreed, and watched her scurry off to grab some stakes. "This sucks..."
A few minutes later, she came back. They threw on their coats and Sam threw her hair up in a pony-tail, before creeping out the door, careful not to make a sound. The weather that day was lightly better, with a pale blue sky and warmthless sun; so the trudge down town and then up the hill to King's house wasn't so terrible.
Sam knew where it was because it had been Stephen's before. They stood before it, gazing up at the large, fine building. The nice houses of Gatlin were all along this street, with spacious yards; although Stephen's was beginning to age, the wood dulling to a dank color, with water damage to the porch and inner walls.
"Rider told me before that they'd checked the basement of this house a few times," Sam said, looking to Mark. "I think the catch to it is he's in the attic..."
"Why the attic?" Mark asked, running a hand through his auburn hair.
"Because," she stated, matter-of-factly. "It's the polar opposite."
"Whatever Suddenly Smarty-pants; let's just get this over with." He stepped onto the first step, and then onto the porch. Sam followed.
They stood before the door, and were surprised to find it unlocked. It slipped open at the turn of the knob. They exchanged a look, but dare not say a word now. They went inside and scanned their surroundings. Sam had only been inside of it once of twice, so the layout was fuzzy...
She touched Mark's shoulder to get his attention and gestured towards the stairs. He nodded and followed her up. At the top, they again looked around. Mark spotted a string hanging for the ceiling. He went over to it, and pulled on it, and a set of latter-like stairs fell out, making loud creaking sounds, and then a loud thud when it contacted with the floor.
The pair cringed and remained very still for several minutes, but no sound followed. Finally, they breathed a sigh, and then climbed up. Within there was one small window in a corner, and tons of old, moldy junk on either side... but, in the center of the room; the jackpot! A polished wooden coffin, painted black as ebony.
Mark rushed to the one circular window, pulling the nailed down boards off it with effort, bracing himself with his foot against the wall. They could hear it splinter and wheeze in the process of a series of sharp tugs. Sam smiled and went right over to the sarcophagus.
"Wait," Mark warned in a whisper, looking over his shoulder. "We gotta move it into light; help me move it into the light."
Sam grabbed the back end and Mark grabbed the front. It was surprisingly heavy, but they managed. It created a thick dragging sound against the floor, leaving marks in the dust, but they ignored it. Letting it go they stepped back, breathing heavy; from nerves or some effect unknown.
"You ready?" Mark breathed, looking at her.
She nodded without a second's thought, and they came to the side of the coffin. They lifted the lid and threw it aside, making yet another loud noise. Sam picked up a stake from where they'd left the pile on the floor, and came back.
Her heart thudding loudly in her ears, she looked down into his face. He had a strong jaw, salt and pepper hair combed back, and silver eyes... wait; his eyes were opened. She forced herself not to look at them, even going so far as to close her own. Mark, beside her, already knew better then to look into their eyes, or look much at them at all.
She held the stake up, taking in a breath, and thought; I can do this... just slam it down; you'll hit the heart, old girl... then it'll all be over... all over, all over, all over, all over...
She lifted it up high, but just as she was about to send it crashing down she realized she was falling, and then felt her body hit the floor hard. She opened her eyes. The stake lay broken beside her. She looked up to see a figure, black against the light, whack Mark in the head with something, knocking him all cold.
The figure seemed to look at her then, and walked towards her. He leaned down, and came into the darkness, and she could see his face. She gasped; "Stephen?"
He smiled menacingly, "In the flesh!"
She gawked at him open-mouthed, but had no time to say or do anything before he hit her outside the head with the same object, sending her spiraling down into heavy darkness.

"Rider? Rider, open your eyes..."
He did as he was told, and found himself lying face-up in tall grass. He sat up and looked around himself... a little white farm house stood a few yards away from him, and a large tree on the opposite side of him with a long, wooden swing hanging from it.
This was where he and Davis had lived as children... and low and behold, on the swing, he saw his brother, dressed in clean white shirt and pants. Davis smiled, and waved, beckoning his brother over without speaking.
Again, Rider obeyed; sitting beside his brother on the swing. Davis was obviously happy to see him, but there seemed certain sadness in his eyes. "They're in trouble, you know..."
"Who?" Rider asked, tipping his head to the side.
"The kids, Sam and Mark," Davis told him, as if he should have known that. "They left without you."
"They wouldn't be that foolish--"
"--They already have been."
"Well then I have to stop them! I can't let them kill King!"
Davis shook his head. "That's not why I brought you here..."
"Then why?"
"You have to remember what we were fighting for," Davis took his brother's hand, looking him dead in the eyes. "We wanted to help people, Rider! That's what we set out to do! We stayed behind to destroy these things -because- we wanted to make sure nobody -else- got hurt. You've forgotten that..."
Tears leapt into Rider's eyes. "I just miss you so much!"
"I know, I know... but it was my time. It's not yours yet, and it's not theirs. Those kids -need you!- The whole world needs you, bro... because if you don't stop him, his kind will spread. It'll become a world-wide epidemic, instead of two small towns in America! You gotta finish what we started... -for me-..."
Rider nodded. "You're right... I did forget... we can't-- I can't let them continue," he turned to his younger brother now, grabbing his hand. "I'll do it for you, Davey; I'll do it! But where are the kids? Do you know? Help me out, okay?"
"The kids are in the basement. Be wary, though... there's a living man in the house, Stephen Reeves, and he'll try to kill you. I know! You thought he was dead, but he's not. You have to kill him... he's King's servant. King is very old, and has the power of premonition... he knew those two were going to kill him, knew it for a -fact!- That's why he had Stephen fake his death; to lure the kids into a trap with that note."
"Will I ever see you again, Davis?"
Davis nodded. "But you have to go as it is... it's my time to go on, now; and you have to save Sam and Mark. Hurry, Rider; hurry!"
Rider awoke with a start. He threw his eyes around the room. It was dark out, now... Just a dream? After all he'd seen, he thought not. He jumped out of bed, and went to work.

Next chapter; is it too late for Mark and Sam? Cananyone stop King? Press on, my children, press on...