Hunter - Short Story

[laura_seabrook]

Another story that I wrote for the HQ competition. Never heard back about this one either. I have no idea if I'm a good fiction writer or not.  The story is set in 2002.

Hunter

“Yeah, I s’pose you could call me a killer...” said the man sitting opposite me, “...though I like being called hunter better.” He finished. He was in his thirties, dressed casually and held a lit cigarette in his left hand. If you didn’t know that the interview was being held in a police cell, you mightn’t have expected him to be a serial killer. That’s what he was according to the police reports. Obviously he had other ideas. I made a note in my pad and waited for him to continue.

“See, you can’t be a killer if you don’t kill, can you?” he said. “And what about these fifteen people the police claim you’ve murdered?” I asked. “Sixteen. I know about that, but they weren’t people y’see.” He leaned back on the chair, and waited for the obvious question. “What do you mean?” I asked. “They weren’t people you see, ‘cause they was vampires.”

I made another note in my pad and drew a large “V?” in the corner. “So you believe the people you killed were vampires – is that it? Isn’t that rather unlikely? How can vampires really exist when clearly the whole idea’s nonsense?” I gazed at him intently. He had another puff on the cigarette before answering. “’cause I seen ‘em, and I’ve seen ‘em feed, and because Gary told me so.” he said. “Gary?” I asked.

“Yeah, Gary. Old school mate. We went back ages we did. He was one of the smartest kids back at school. If you had a math or a science problem, he could fix or solve it. Good mate to have for homework.” “And Gary told you that vampires are real?” I asked. “Yeah. Hadn’t seen him for yonks. Then we bumped into each other. Well, he bumped into me I guess. I was crossing the street at Taylor’s Square and this car almost runs over me. I started swearing at the driver and then saw that it was Gary. He pulled over, and we went and had some drinks.” “How long ago was this?” I asked.

“Oh, ‘bout two years ago – two thousand.” he said. “And this Gary told you that some people are vampires?” I asked. “Well, not straight out, o’ course. No. Like I said, we went to a pub and got to talking. Been a long time since we’d seen each other you know, over ten years, but I’d never forget Gary.” “Why’s that?” I asked. “He used to help me a lot. Other kids used to call me spastic and retarded – make fun o’ me, but not Gary. Stuck by me he did. Then his folks moved away and I never saw him again until he almost run over me.”

I put down my pen and browsed though the list the police had given me. Towards the bottom I found the name. “And that was Gary Summers wasn’t it? If you liked him so much, why did you kill him?” I asked. He took another puff on the cigarette before stubbing it out on the table. “If you really want to know,” he said, “I’ll tell you the whole story”. I picked my pen up again, at the ready to take notes. “Go ahead” I said.

“OK. Well like I said, Gary and I had a drink together and we got talking. He was a big success now, wasn’t he? Something to do with importin’ and exportin’ machines. He told me but I forget. Anyway, he was rich, loaded with it he was. I told him about how things’d gone with me since school and I knew he understood. I’ve never had too much luck with work have I. I mean I failed the HSC. Been on the dole a lot. Got work were I could. Used to pick fruit and stuff when I could, but that’s harder now too, know what I mean.”

“Anyway, he looks at me and says that he could help me out. Give me a job. I told him back that I didn’t want charity and he said that was OK ‘cause that wasn’t what he was offering. He gives me this business card and tells me to phone the number on it when I wanted the job. Wouldn’t tell me what it was in the pub y’see, ‘cause it was too public. Then he left. I didn’t think too much of it at first. I mean some people tell you anything, just to be rid o’ you. Been a long time since I last saw Gary, and at least I got a drink out of it.”

“’Bout a week later I found the card when I was doing the washing down at the ‘mat. Also found some change, so I thought I’d call him – ya never know. Anyway I call the number and Gary answers it. He tells me the offer’s still good and that he’ll come out and pick me up. I wait and then he gets there and we drove back to his place. Talk about flash – one of these terrace house things out in Glebe. He told me that he owned the whole thing, no mortgage or nothin’. And books. He had a whole wall full of books.”

“So anyhow he sits me down with a beer and puts on this video. Funny sort of video. Like a documentary but not very well made, not like the stuff you see on the telly. It was boring at first – went on and on about the `history of mankind` and all this stuff about wars and death and suffering. Then it mentions things about these vampires, right? I looks at Gary and laughs didn’t I. Told him if the job was watching videos and drinking beer I’d be happy to do it all day, but that he ought’a  get better ones. He tells me to keep watching.”

“I keep watching and it went on and on ‘bout vampires, about how all the countries of the world had stories about ‘em – didn’t matter if they were European, Asian or African, they all had these stories. And then it claimed that they were real. I laughed so hard Gary got angry. I was starting to think maybe the other kids at school were right when they called Gary a freak. I didn’t care if he was – he always helped me, and maybe I might get some money off him, so I kept watching.”

“It said that most of what was heard about vamps was wrong, was stories made up around the facts, like being able to turn into a bat and drinking blood and stuff like that”. “Embellishments...”  I offered, “...what did the video claim was the truth then?” I asked. “I’m gettin’ to it” he said.

“If I remember right it said there were four real things about vampires: they don’t like sunlight; don’t feel pain much; they hypnotize people, and they feed off the emotions and stuff o’ people dyin’.”  “I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “what was that last one?”

“They feeds off people dyin’. Not blood or stuff like that, but the feelings of people dying. The more painful or the more terrifyin’ the death, the more they get from it. Gary showed me these photos he got off the net. You remember all those shows you see on TV about all those Jews killed back in World War Two? Well the photos showed these secret rooms at the back of the gas chambers. They‘d gas all these people, and the fuckin’ vampires’d be in this room next door soaking up all the emotion and stuff.”

“So you’re saying that the Holocaust was all a plot by vampires? What about Hitler? Were the Nazis all vampires?” I asked. He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “Nuh. People don’t need too much o’ a reason to be mean and nasty to other people. That Hitler and the Nazis started it, but the vampires made sure they’d get their cut. See, the way Gary explained it, they hypnotize people into believin’ things and letting them do stuff – horrible stuff that ordinary folks’d never do. They go to places like that Bosnia and Israel, and anywhere where there’s lots o’ horrible deaths and sufferin’. And they’re all over the place too – lots in ordinary jobs pretendin’ to do ordinary things, when all they really want t’do is get people to die in horrible ways. And some are rich, and have lots o’ influence too.”

“So after the video and after Gary showed you these photos, what then?” I asked. “Well, we had a long talk like. Gary told me that he was a member of a secret group that watches out for vamps and protects people from them — wanted me to join.” “Oh?” I asked, “what group is this?” “He called it, now what did he call it, um, oh yeah, `The Gri-gaw-ree’ or something I think he called it.”

“He said that the group had been around for a long, long time, and all the people in it were ones that couldn’t be hypnotized. They worked in secret because the vampires were everywhere and very powerful. He said if they found out where a member of the group was, they made sure they got killed real quick. I didn’t believe him at first, ya know, but I did later. He told me that the group had to be like a tree, if you know what I mean. That’s ‘cause if anyone was caught they might get tortured by the Vees — that’s what they called vamps — and make them tell about the others, so everyone only knew one person up from them, and the people under ‘em. Sort'a like that Amway stuff that some guy tried to get me into.”

“So what made you believe that vampires were real then? How did Gary convince you?” I asked. “Well, he showed me the video, but I’ve seen better special ‘fects at films, know what I mean? And he showed me these photos, and then he showed me a `Vee’. Turns out he had a basement in that place of his, like a car park below ground. Took me downstairs and there was this girl chained up down there — looked like a girl anyway — couldn’t a been more than seventeen tops. She was all pale and like, and she talked filth and rubbish, swearing at Gary and me and asking me to let her go. According to Gary the Vee’s get all pale just before they feed, or if they haven’t fed for a while.”

“Anyway, I was getting worried and then Gary tells me that he’ll prove she’s a vampire. He grabs her arm and then whips out this bakin’ skewer he had in his pocket and stabs her right in the arm – went all the way through it did. She just stands there lookin’ at it, right, without a word. If it’d been me I’d be screaming my head off, right. But not a word out o’ ‘er. Then Gary shows me this dead body. Didn’t see it before ‘cause the Vee was in the way, but there was this dead body right next to her —  ‘nother girl wasn’t it? Gary tells me that when they can’t feed on real people, they start feedin’ on each other and’ll kill each other if they need to. ‘o course, the Vee’s denying all this, right - said that Gary’d kidnapped both o’ them and chained them up down there, and killed the other one.”

“I looked at her, an’ I looked at Gary. He said that if I didn’t believe him, I could unlock her and let her go. He gives me the keys and I’m about to unlock her when she pulls that skewer out of her arm and goes for me. Well, it was obvious what was what, was’n’it, so I grabbed the skewer off her and used it on ‘er.” 

I made a gesture to pause and looked again at the police notes. “That would have been Angela Carr and Lena Mossevich,” I said, “it says here on the forensic report that the bodies recovered from the basement of Gary Summer’s house in Glebe had indications of amphetamine and cocaine use.” “Yeah, probably, I never found out what they called themselves. What’s it matter once they’re dead? I was a bit upset for a while but I could see that Gary’s tellin’ the truth. And I took up the job”

“The job?” I asked. “Yeah, the job was huntin’ and killin’ Vees. He set me up he did — I was livin’ in this hostel down near Newtown when I met him, and he rented a house for me just up in Ashfield. He bought me a car and gave me spendin’ money too, just so long as I did the job.” “So how did you do that?” I asked.

“Well Gary organised it didn’t he? Once a week he’d come over to visit and we’d go out nights cruisin’ in me car. He told me that ‘cause the Vee’s didn’t like sunlight (it burns them or something) that the night was the best time to hunt ‘em. We’d hang about the nightclubs and places where people’d hang out at night. We went there because that’s where the Vees go, — Gary told me. See the Vees will try and find people who’re alone, don’t have many friends and mightn’t get missed. The Vees ‘ll either cause something horrible to happen around them, or they’ll make it happen by ‘emselves. They’ll grab people off the street and then torture ‘em to death. That’s what we were doing – stopping the Vee’s from doing that.”

“Just a moment,” I interjected, “isn’t kidnapping and killing people exactly what you and Gary did?”  “NO! They were fuckin’ Vees, don’t ya see? We had to get them first before they got real people!” I moved back into the chair I was sitting on, as he was becoming agitated and moving forward. “Have another cigarette.” I offered. He hesitated and then took one, and asked for a cup of coffee as well. I told him I’d see what I could do. “So how could you tell who was a ‘Vee’ and who was a `real person’?” I asked.

“Wasn’t easy sometimes. Gary was the one who’d normally spot them. Often they looked pretty pale and wore black a lot. Gary told me that there were some we couldn’t touch, because they were too strong. And some folk dressed up like Vees and called ‘emselves `Goofs’ or `Goths” or some such. Bloody silly if you ask me. Once we followed this guy – he was all dressed in black with white makeup on, into this pub on Mary St in Surrey Hills, not far from Central, you know. Anyway we went in after him and the whole place was full o’ these young kids all dressed the same way! We got out o’ there pretty fast. Even if there was a Vee in there it’d be hard to find ‘em.”

“Nah, normally Gary’d spot the Vee. We’d tail ‘em for a while, night after night if we had to, ‘cause they’d go back to the same places a lot. Took time it did to find a Vee. Sometimes we’d follow in the car, sometimes not. We had to be real careful or they’d notice, and then we’d be in trouble. Fact is, it did happen one time.” “Oh, what happened then?” I asked.

“Well, this older guy must'a noticed us while we was tailin’ him. We’d been followin’ him for a while but never got a chance to grab him ‘cause he was never alone. Anyway, one day he turns up outside my house. I get a knock at the door and he’s standin’ there, just looking at me. He tol’ me that a friend of his in the RTA had traced the car plates. He just stood there and asked me why I was `stalking’ him. I looked at him right, and he was wearing a hat and everything but his face and hands were all sun-burnt, and he smelt somethin’ ‘orrible. He must have been a Vee for sure. I told him to come inside and we’d talk about it.”

“And then you killed him didn’t you?” I asked. “Yeah. He must a been pretty stupid, eh?” he replied. Once again I checked the police report. “According to the police, the person you killed and later buried in Ashfield was suffering from Manic-Depression. They were taking a drug called Tryptanol that has a side effect of photosensitivity.” He looked at me, took a drag on the new cigarette and then exhaled slowly. “Huh? Whatever, he was a Vee anyway.” “So what happened when you two finally managed to ‘grab’ a ‘Vee’ off the street?” I asked.

“Well, we’d use different methods, y’know? Sometimes we’d just bash the shit out of them, other times Gary used a rag with some drug in it. Either way, we’d get ‘em back to his place, drive straight in downstairs and then chain ‘em up.” “Then what happened?” I asked.

“Sometimes we’d just kill ‘em, other times Gary’d try and get them to confess before we killed ‘em. Some confessed, but most didn’t. Sometimes they were down there for a week or more before they would. Didn’t matter, they weren’t goin’ anywhere. Gary used to torture ‘em – he said that because they didn’t feel pain much it had to be done before they died, to pay back for they’d done to real people. I wasn’t mostly there for that — it really made me sick — but he’d phone me up when he needed me and I’d take the bodies out in the boot o’ my car and bury ‘em in the bush.”

“And how long did this go on for?” I asked. “’Bout ‘til last September” he replied. “And is that when you killed Gary?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Why?” I asked. It seemed a crucial point to me.

“Well, I figured it out didn’t I? I figured it out. Gary was over in New York last September, right? Somethin’ to do with his export business. He was there when that plane thing happened, you know, to those towers. All those people dead, and all the people so upset about all the dead people. Then he came back. Said he’d ‘ad difficulty getting back ‘cause of all the security and stuff. He came ‘round for a visit and he was pissed as a newt on cheap plonk. We had a few beers and he started telling me stuff. Started talking about vampires of th’ fuckin' dark and vampires of the fuckin' light, the sort that only drink red wine and red cordial, not blood. I’d never seen him like it before. He kept on and on about that New York thing and about how all the people’d died and on and on and on. And then I figured it out. He was a fuckin’ Vee!”

“Explained a lot. Maybe there’s lots o’ other Vees about, maybe not, but he was a Vee alright! And here was me, helping him to get people to feed him. I didn’t let on though. Not that silly. But I kept on drinking with him and waited ‘til he passed out from too much piss. Then I got the pillow off the bed and put it over his face, and held it down ‘til he stopped struggling and he went all still, and then I made sure and got the kitchen knife and finished the job. And that’s when I called the cops.”

He paused and then said ”Now can I get that coffee. I’m sick o’ talking’.” I told him I’d see what I could do. I got out of the chair, packed my notes, and left.

In the small room outside was the guard. I gazed into his eyes intently and said  “I’m finished with the prisoner” in a smooth seductive voice. “You can give him his coffee now”. He nodded and moved as if in a dream. He made a cup of instant from the urn and went to enter the prisoner’s cell. As he did I placed a pill into the white plastic cup. “Sweetener” I said, with a small smile.

The guard went into the cell with the cup. I heard a muffled “Thanks” from next door and then the guard returned, locking the door behind him. I motioned him to sit, and then I waited for the undetectable poison of the pill to do its work. All that could be heard was the ticking of a clock and the soft hum of the air conditioning. In a few minutes though, the prisoner next door would start to asphyxiate as his chest muscles ceased to work. It would be a slow and painful death. A slight shiver went up and down my spine as I anticipated the ever-sweet taste of feeding.