Undead - One Foot In The Grave Part 31

Yeah, right, answered the other half of the Csejthe stream-of-consciousness debate team, just like you rationally know that vampires don't exist.

But there's a scientific principle involved in creating vampires. . . .

Maybe, but can you explain werewolves, Binky?

This was getting me nowhere. Very gingerly, I dipped the tip of my little finger into the basin of holy water. No pain, no smoke, no bubbling froth, no dissolving flesh.

As quickly as I could, I filled four bottles and made my escape.

"Now where?" Lupe asked as I climbed back into the pa.s.senger seat.

"Another Catholic church," I said, swapping full bottles for empties. "I figure we'll need to hit five more cathedrals or kidnap a priest."

"Wonderful."

As we spent the next hour collecting aqua sacra, I was troubled by the question of why it didn't affect me. Was it because I wasn't a believing, practicing member of the Catholic faith? Or because I was not yet fully transformed into an undead creature and wholly d.a.m.ned? Perhaps it was because, as a rational man, I was immune to the superst.i.tious influence and power of my subconscious mind?

Or maybe this stuff just wasn't all it was cracked up to be. . . .

Chapter Sixteen.

"What is that?" Mooncloud had opened the motel room door and maneuvered two crutch-steps into the room when she noticed that I was pointing an odd-looking handgun at her.

"It's a Splatmaster Rapide Semi-Automatic paint pistol," I answered, studying her through the weapon's three-power, cross-haired scope. "It's used in war games and fires paintb.a.l.l.s for marking hits on human targets."

"I know what it's used for," she snapped, standing perfectly still. "Why are you pointing it at me?"

"This is a test," I answered. "This is only a test. . . ." I pulled the trigger. Pffthok: the paintball left a ragged wet mark on her slacks, just above her right knee.

"What did you do that f-" She stopped in midroar and reexamined the stain. "It's not paint."I shook my head. "It's water."

"Water?"

"Tap water."

"Tap water?"

"For the test." I holstered the pistol and sat back down in front of the cluttered desk. "It's very simple, though a bit time consuming. I took a paintball and used a syringe to suck out all of the paint.

Then I used another syringe to inject the tap water. Finally, I used a wee bit of sealant to plug the leak and-voila!"

"And, instead of tap water," she guessed, "you plan to reload your paintb.a.l.l.s with holy water." Her smile fell a little short of amazed admiration, but she said, "How clever you are, my dear Christopher.

Excuse me while I get a towel." She turned on her crutches and went back outside.

"I don't think that was such a good idea," Lupe remarked from the bed. "Nor very sporting considering her broken leg."

"Aah, it was good for her. . . ." I picked up a virgin paintball and inserted the hypodermic needle.

"The doc needs a little loosening up. And she can hardly argue with the effectiveness of my little demonstration." The door opened behind me. "Right, Doc?"

"Granted, it's a novel approach," I heard her say as I excavated the paint from the plastic spheroid.

"But one should always apply the KISS criteria when attempting any approach to a problem."

"Kiss?" Lupe wanted to know.

"Yeah, K-I-S-S," I said, squirting the paint back out of the syringe and into the plastic lined wastebasket. "It stands for 'Keep It Simple, Stupid.'"

"You said it," Lupe laughed, "not me."

I looked up and saw Mooncloud's reflection in the mirror that hung above my desk. She was leaning on the armrests of her crutches and brandis.h.i.+ng a toy rifle outfitted with green and yellow plastic tanks and a tangle of connecting tubes.

"The Super Hoser Ten-Thousand-S," Mooncloud explained, "has a full tank capacity of nearly four-and-one-half gallons. It can shoot a continuous stream of water nearly forty feet for a duration of eight seconds per burst."

"Where did you get that?" I asked, turning very slowly and trying not to make any sudden moves.

"Kiddie Kastle. There was a sale on all squirt guns and water pistols." She smiled and slide-c.o.c.ked the d.a.m.n thing. "This is a test," she said.

I dived out the chair, rolled once, and then threw my superhuman reflexes into jumping up and running for the bathroom.

I almost made it.

Ba.s.sarab's timely rescue and financial backing had given us a momentary shot of confidence. False confidence, perhaps, as one of our foes had survived staking and decapitation: all our high-tech firepower might not mean a thing when our paths crossed again. After loading a dozen paintb.a.l.l.s with holy water, I pulled out my laptop computer.

The database on vampire legends was growing and the list of remedies becoming more complex and contradictory. Still, there was something that tugged at the back of my mind-some foreign bit of fable that resonated to our most recent encounter.

I finally found it under the Malaysian grouping. "Here we go," I announced. Mooncloud came over and adjusted the screen for a better look.

"What's it say?" Garou asked from the chair she had aligned with the failing air conditioner.

"According to this," Mooncloud said, "there are a number of Malayan legends and stories that tie into the vampire mythos. You've isolated seven different manifestations: the polong, bajang, pelesit, langsuir, mati-anak or pontianak, and the penanggalan."

"That's it," I said, "the last one."

She studied the information. "The penanggalan's head separates from its body and goes flying off in search of its prey. After it feeds its head returns to its body before sunrise."

"Sounds like our boy."

She scrolled down the text and frowned. "Maybe not. Look here: the head leaves the body voluntarily and strands of guts and entrails dangle down from its neck while it flies about. Don't remember voluntary and I don't remember guts."

"Maybe."

She hit the page down key then scrolled backwards a half screen. "Here's more. Penanggalans are always female, never male."

"Who knows what gender this thing is."

"And, finally, the biggest telling difference: the penanggalan's body remains inert."

"Inert?"

"Inanimate-totally helpless-until the head returns to rejoin the body at the neck. We saw this thing running away with its head tucked under its arm."

"Well, if it's not a penanggalan, then what is it?"

She shrugged.

"Look, up until now I've bought into this RNA/DNA, Virus A-Virus B, and Recombinant Virus C c.r.a.p. But no amount of medical biobabble can explain a thing that can get its head chopped off and then gallop off like some refugee from a Was.h.i.+ngton Irving story!"

"Yet, you have seen it and you do know that it exists," she snapped back. "So, like it or not, you've got to deal with its existence!"

"And find a way to kill it," Lupe added.

"If it can be killed."

"Oh, it can be killed."

I looked at Lupe. "You're so sure?"

"We'll run down the list. If necessary," she bared her teeth, "we'll experiment."

I sighed and pressed a sequence of keystrokes. "Okay, from the top. We start with Albania and the sampiro. The approved method of disposal: a stake through the heart."

"Next," Garou called from her chair.

"Ashantiland," I read. "Species: asanbosam. Method of disposal: unknown."

"Unknown? You're sure?"

"Hey, I've had just enough time to scratch the surface, here. Check back with me after six months of intensive research and I might have a few more answers. Which brings us to the Austrian vampyre. My notes indicate that we must read scripture while destroying all images or portraits of that thing and be sure to use pentagrams in the process."

"What does that mean?" Mooncloud pondered.

"Sounds like we should take some Polaroids the next time we run into that creepy b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Garou said.

"And pentagrams?"

I shrugged. "I'm the novice here. I just transcribe the information. I leave a.n.a.lysis to the people with actual field experience.""Next."

"Bavaria: nachtzehrer. Place coin in mouth, decapitate with ax."

"The coin sounds like a modification of old burial practices," Mooncloud said. "I doubt if it would have made any difference."

"Which brings us to Bohemia and the ogoljen. Best bet: bury at crossroads."

"Real practical," Garou mused. "I can just see the two of us holding that thing down while you rent a jackhammer and tear up the intersection at First and Main. Next."

"British Columbia: the kwakiytl. Means of disposal: any."

"Obviously not our man."

I paged down. "Two different species from Brazil: the jaracaca and the lobishomen. Both fit in the unknown category. Two more from Bulgaria: the krvoijac and the obours. To dispose of the first you must chain it to its grave with wild roses-"

"Ah, days of vine and roses. . . ."

I ignored Garou and continued: "The second requires witchcraft, burning, or bottling."

"Bottling?"

"Highly unlikely, totally impractical, and I'll explain later if you insist," Mooncloud said. "Keep going, Chris."

"Well, that throws out the polong of Malaysia, as well: my notes say it must be caught in bottle of special dimensions."

Garou muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." I kept going.

"China: the p'o. Lightning strike or burn the body to ashes."

"He didn't look Chinese," Garou offered.

"Chinese vampires are actually demons and don't resemble anything human in the least," Mooncloud explained. "Next to a p'o, our boy looks like Norman Normal."

"Crete: kathakano. Boil head in vinegar."

"Gee," Garou said, "I wish we'd known that the night before last."

"Denmark," I continued, "the mara. Use knife blade which has been blessed and/or consecrated."

"Maybe we should check this thing's pa.s.sport."

"Maybe you should take this business a little more seriously," Mooncloud admonished.

I looked up and saw the color drain from Lupe's face. "You think I don't want this thing dead?" she said through clenched teeth. "Come up with a plan and I'll carry it out." She got up and walked to the door. "This thing tore Luis apart and I've sworn a blood oath to kill it! I'm not afraid to die trying, if that's what it takes! Perhaps it is the rest of you who should be taking this a little more seriously!" She walked out and slammed the door.

Mooncloud looked at the ground. I stared down at the LCD display. After awhile I began reading again.

"Greece: the brukulaco. Cut off the head and burn it. Also native to Greece, the vrykolakas.

Celebration of ma.s.s followed by disinterment-remove heart and burn with incense, fill mouth with holy water."

Mooncloud made no reply, so I kept going. "Germany: drakul. Place coin in mouth, cut name from s.h.i.+rt, break corpse's neck, pin to ground with stake, burn body to ashes."