SUFFER THE CHILDREN

By Dino Pollard

Out on the dirt back roads, the night was still. A dense fog clouded the area and a lone figure stalked down those roads. A lonely bar, looking like a run-down shack from the outside, was the first sign of civilization he had seen in hours. Perhaps his only chance to start to feel like the man he once was.

He pushed the door open, instantly drawing stares to him. He stood out. His frame was large and muscular, something made all the more obvious by his lack of any clothing except for a pair of boxer shorts dotted with Spider-Man’s head over and over. And another obvious reason for the stares was that he was the only black man in a bar filled with white, middle aged bikers and truckers. Many of whom wore hats, shirts or jackets with the Confederate flag proudly displayed.

Ignoring the stares, he walked through the smoke-filled room and sat at the bar. He looked up at the server. “Bourbon, straight.”

The bartender took a shot glass and filled it with Wild Turkey. He held it out but before the man could take it, the bartender drank the shot himself and slammed the glass down.

“Get the fuck outta my bar,” he said. “No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

“Really?” asked the man. He turned around and saw a guy at the pool table. A similar build to his own, probably in his mid-thirties. He wore a black leather jacket and pants and a red shirt with the Confederate flag. The dark-skinned man slid off the stool and patted the guy on the shoulder as he was taking a shot. It made the biker scratch, his cue missing the ball.

“Sonnuva bitch!” He turned. “The fuck you think you’re doing, asshole? You just cost me a hundred bucks!”

“Ask me if I give a shit,” said the man.

“Listen, shitkicker—”

“I got a name, and it’s not shitkicker.”

“Oh yeah, then what is it?” asked the biker.

The man snatched the pool cue away and broke it over his knee. He pressed the tip of the broken cue up against the biker’s throat and smiled, ivory fangs clearly on display.

“They call me Blade.”

“Jesus Christ…” said the biker.

“Your jacket and your pants,” said Blade. “Take ’em off.”

A trucker moved behind him, raising the pool cue. Just as he brought it down, Blade’s free hand reached out and grabbed the trucker’s wrist. With a simple twist, the trucker screamed, the bones in his wrist shattering with a crunch.

“ARGHHHH!”

“You want me to tell you again?” asked Blade, looking at the biker. Then he directed his attention to the entire bar, who now all had their attention fixed on him. “Or does anyone else wanna try pissing me off today?”

The biker stripped his jacket off, dropping it on the ground. He took another look at Blade before he made a move for the pants. Blade just glared at him and the biker quickly unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, kicking them over. Blade kept the cue pressed against the man’s throat with one hand, using his other to pull the pants on. Then he slid the jacket over his bare chest. He swung the pool cue around, striking the biker with the blunt end, knocking him onto the table. Blade took the man’s boots and wore them as his own.

He went back to the bar and lightly slapped the bartender’s cheek to get his attention. “I’ll have that shot now, thanks.”

The bartender took the bottle and set it in front of the Daywalker. “Take the whole fucking thing, man!”

Blade smiled, took one swing from the bottle and set it back down. Walking towards the exit, he spotted a man staring at him, a pair of sunglasses in his front pocket. Blade took them out and slid them over his dark eyes.

“Thanks.”

He stepped outside and fished the biker’s keys out of the pocket. When he found the correct bike, he set the broken pool cue into a slot on the side. Revving up, he sped off into the night.

The rows of corn were a blur as he raced past them, the sound of his feet rustling against the ground like a deafening symphony. He knew they had to be onto him, with all this noise he made. His heart pounded in his chest, forcing blood to power his legs as quickly as he spent it. His lungs were ready to explode from exhaustion.

How long had he been running? Days? Hours? Or minutes? It all blurred together for him. All he knew is it felt like an eternity and the rows of corn seemed to have no end in sight.

Mark Wilson needed to get out of here. Out of Sunrise as fast as possible. The name seemed extremely ironic to him now, and if only he could find some way to stay and fight. But he knew if he did, they would get him. They would find him and they would grab him, just as they had with everyone else. And just like the others who tried to run, Mark’s body would be marched through the center of town to be burned in effigy.

He hated to leave his family behind, hated to leave his home. But they gave him no choice. He became a prisoner and the time had come to stop giving a shit about other people. No, now was the time for one thing and one thing only—self-preservation.

Mark Wilson was hardly the most graceful and he proved that as he tripped over his feet, stumbling to the ground and landing face-first on the ground. He groaned in pain and pulled himself to his knees.

heeheehee

His head jerked to the right at the sound. Nothing there. Was it just the wind? Had he become so paranoid that now he was beginning to hear things? The fear in him was begging him to call out, to ask if anyone was there. But the paranoia came qith a quick response: don’t be stupid. Then they’ll know where you are.

So Mark said nothing, just sat there and strained his ears to listen. And then he heard a rustling behind him. He spun and saw nothing, just a gust of wind that struck the corn and shook them together.

Staring forward, something seemed to run past him, too fast to see. Mark scurried back on his hands and knees, moving as far away as possible. He kept on crawling, moving for the road. He knew it was close, it had to be. Once he was there, he could have a better chance of getting out. Maybe flag down a trucker. At least that’s what he hoped would happen. Sooner or later, someone had to come down these roads, right?

…right?

He tried to breathe easy, tried to give himself a moment to regain his strength. And then he felt the tap on his shoulder and his blood froze. It was like he was paralyzed and all he could see in front of him was the dense fog and in that fog, it seemed as if two yellow eyes were staring at him with menace and hatred and…

…and hunger.

WELCOME TO SUNRISE

That’s what the side said as Blade drove past it, staring at it through the sunglasses he obtained the night before. He couldn’t quite explain why, but he felt something… drawing him on this path. Of course, he didn’t have much of an idea where he was going. After he left New Orleans, after what happened with Morbius, he had been mobile. Trying to track down the Devil’s Dust when he was ambushed.

Next thing he remembered, he was a resident at Shadywood Manor, a simple retirement community, or at least what it appeared to be on the outside. In reality, it was run by vampires who used it as an easy place to feed and extract fresh blood as efficiently as they wanted.

He escaped and burned Shadywood to the ground. And now that he had wheels and clothes, he needed to get back in the game. He was at Shadywood for months, maybe even a year, he didn’t know. What he did know was that he felt something in Sunrise and he was determined to explore this further.

Plus, his bike was low on gas.

A gas station appeared on his right. Blade turned off the road and pulled up to the pump. An old man wearing a mechanic’s uniform and a fisherman’s hat sat in front of the small garage, a car magazine in his hands. He set it down and rose slowly once Blade arrived.

“Nice-lookin’ bike you got there,” he said. “Mind if I ask how much a hog like that set you back?”

“It was a gift.”

“Damn, you got some mighty nice friends, boy,” said the old man. Blade noticed the name on the uniform read Frank. The name resonated with the Daywalker for a moment, memories of his old friend, Frank Drake. Who knew where he was now.

“Just need to fill her up.”

“Have a seat, I’ll handle it,” said Frank.

“I can pump my own gas.”

“I’m sure you can, big guy like you doesn’t look like he’d need a hand with anything. But hell, not like we do a lot of business around here so I’m happy to get these old bones moving even for a few minutes.”

Frank removed the pump and slid it into the gas tank. He set the lever back and the fuel began to flow inside the bike. Frank ran his fingers along the chassis and whistled.

“Mighty fine bike that is, yessirree.”

Blade’s eyes explored the horizon. The town was small with what seemed to be one main road running through it. People were going about their daily business. Across the street was a school with a yard that looked as if it had been abandoned.

“Hey old timer, what time you got?”

Frank looked at his wristwatch. “About four in the afternoon, why?”

“Where are all the kids?”

“What do you mean?”

“Four in the afternoon at a school tends to be crowded in most places.”

“We do things a little different here in Sunrise. Not many teachers around, most kids are home schooled.”

“But they don’t go outside? Don’t get out to play?”

“New age, my friend. All those video games and whatnot. Rot your brain, they will.”

Frank removed the pump and set it back on the cradle. “That’ll be twenty.”

Blade reached into the jacket and pulled out the biker’s wallet. He fished a twenty dollar bill and slid it into Frank’s greasy hand. And he noticed two small holes on the older man’s wrist. “So where you headed to?” asked Frank.

“Nowhere, really,” said Blade. “Just on a bit of a road trip.”

“Well, if you wanna hit the next town before nightfall, you’d better get moving.”

Blade considered the man’s words. Considered the marks on his wrist and the strange feeling he got from this town, whatever it was that drew him here. And now, Frank seemed to want him to get out of town as quickly as possible. Not to mention the stink that Frank carried on his body, a stink Blade knew all too well.

“Think I might stay the night,” said Blade. “Been on the road all day, I’m pretty tired and I think I’ll stay here the night, leave at dawn.”

“You shouldn’t do that, son.”

“And why not?”

Just… trust me on this,” said Frank. “Sunrise don’t take kindly to strangers. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get outta here while you still can.”

Blade crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that a threat, old man?”

“Nah, I’m not the fightin’ type,” said Frank. “It’s a warning.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Blade threw his leg over the bike, lifting the kickstand and keeping the vehicle steady with his feet planted on either side. He started her up and took one last look at Frank. “Thanks for the chat.”

He pulled out from the station, driving down the one main street in Sunrise. Dusk would come soon and if there were leeches in this town, he needed to be prepared. The bastards at Shadywood took all his gear so now he was forced to make do with what little he had.

He saw a hardware store and stopped in front of it. Blade entered and the man behind the counter was young, around seventeen. Probably the owner’s relative or neighbor. He eyed the Daywalker suspiciously.

“Something you need?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Blade as he removed his sunglasses, approaching the counter. “Silver.”

“Silver,” said the kid. “What the hell do you need silver for?”

“Don’t think that’s any of your business. Just point me to it.”

“That’s the thing, we don’t have any.”

“This a hardware store, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“So why the hell don’t you have silver?”

The kid sighed. “We. Just. Don’t. Okay?”

Blade looked down at the kid’s hand resting on the counter. He wore a short sleeve shirt and the marks on his forearm were easily visible. He raised his eyes to the boy and the young guy saw what Blade noticed. He took his hand off the counter and slid it into his pocket.

“How’d you get those marks?”

“Got bit.”

“Really?” Blade raised an eyebrow. “By what?”

“A cat,” said the kid.

“You look a little pale, too,” said Blade. “What’s wrong, not gettin’ enough sun?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, just making conversation.” Blade left the counter and began to wander around the store. No silver but at least there was some wood and a saw. The weapons would be rudimentary, not up to his usual standard, but beggars can’t be choosers.

He picked up several things. Some wood, a saw, a length of chain, nails, a hammer, blowtorch, a few cans of lighter fluid, and spray paint. The kid looked at all the items Blade laid out on the counter.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Why do you care?” asked Blade.

“Just making conversation,” said the kid. He rang the items up and bagged them. Blade paid him with the biker’s cash and left. Once he was gone, the kid moved to the back room.

“Who was that, Jimmy?”

The storeroom was dark and the voice seemed to come from all directions as Jimmy walked deeper inside, his arms extended and feeling around to avoid bumping into anything.

“No one, Elsie. Just a customer.”

“And what did he want?”

“He was just buying some things, that’s all.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him before.”

Jimmy winced as fingers yanked on his hair, lifting him off the ground. He could smell the stench of blood on Elsie’s breath as she whispered into his ear. With his peripheral vision, he could just barely make out the extended canine teeth in her snarl.

“Why do we have strangers in my town, Jimmy?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“I want him, Jimmy. It’s been too long since I’ve had someone new to play with. And I want you to find him for me.”

“H-how?”

Elsie ran her tongue over those fangs. “Oh… I think I know a way…”

After driving around for a while, searching for a motel or inn but finding none, Blade returned to the school he saw from the station. Just as he imagined, the school had been completely abandoned. Everything in the building had been painted with several coats of dust and the school now belonged to the insects who had made it their home. He pulled webs aside and dusted off a table in what must have once been the teacher’s lounge so he could work.

First Frank at the station and then the boy at the hardware store. There were vamps here, Blade knew that much. Their stench was everywhere. And judging by the marks on those wrists, they weren’t killing the townspeople—just feeding off them. Keeping them alive as a food source.

The biker’s coat was lined with pockets, making it easy to store the stakes the Daywalker had fashioned from the wood. He wished he had his sword with him, he felt almost naked without it. But he had to make do with the hand he’d been dealt.

As he was filling some empty bottles with lighter fluid and stuffing rags into the openings, heard chanting and he moved to the window, pressed against the wall as he peered through the dusty glass. He could see torches in the streets, marching along in a macabre parade. And in the center of the procession, they held a large, wooden pillar. Fixed to that pillar was something covered by a white sheet, stained with blood, making it obvious what it was beneath that sheet. But what caught Blade’s attention was not the post, it was who carried it and the torches.

“Sonnuva bitch…”

They were children. Dozens of them, not a single one over the age of twelve. Their movements were deliberate, their faces completely blank without a hint of the emotions so common among the youth. But their eyes—their eyes had that eerie yellow glow possessed by the undead creatures of the night. The townspeople gathered together on the roadsides, watching with fear.

At the center of town, they came to a stop. The town square had a small cul-de-sac and in the center of it was a gazebo. Most-likely used for addressing the town for official reasons or when events may have come through Sunrise. But tonight, it was the center of a ritual.

The children propped the post in front of the gazebo. One of them, a cute girl about six years old with blonde curls and bright, blue eyes stepped up to the gazebo.

“Mr. Wilson here was being bad last night,” said the girl. “He was running. Trying to run from us. He didn’t want to play with us anymore. And that hurts my feelings.”

She gripped the sheet in her tiny hands and pulled. It fell off, revealing a man nailed to it by his hands and feet. Crucifixion without the cross. The man’s throat had been torn open and blood still seeped through the wound. He was alive, but barely.

The girl began to giggle sheepishly, covering her mouth with her hand. “So I hurt him back.”

When the girl moved her hand, prominent fangs were on display, her blue eyes now a demonic yellow. “Elsie doesn’t like it when her playmates leave, no she doesn’t.”

She looked up at poor Mark Wilson nailed to that post. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Wilson?”

Mark tried to speak but he couldn’t. Elsie just giggled again. “That’s okay, Mr. Wilson. I know you’re sorry, so you don’t have to say it.”

She held her hand out and one of the children handed her his torch. Elsie held it against Mark’s foot, his pants catching the flames. They quickly spread over his body, engulfing him. Now, he found his voice and his screams made the blood of the townspeople curdle as they watched their friend and neighbor go up in flames.

“Fuckin’ leeches…” muttered Blade. He reached into his jacket, moving for one of the stakes when he picked up a new scent in the room. He turned just as Jimmy leaped on him, raising his arms to block the attack. His arms were pressed against Jimmy’s throat, who growled and snapped at Blade like an angry dog.

Blade kicked the newly-turned vampire in his crotch and then swung his leg around, connecting the roundhouse with Jimmy’s ear. “You picked the wrong bastard, suckhead.”

Jimmy looked up and roared, jumping back to his feet and lunging again at Blade. The Daywalker played defense, deflecting each of Jimmy’s slashes. He spun around and elbowed Jimmy’s nose, the force of the blow putting distance between them once more.

Blood seeped from Jimmy’s broken nose and his tongue snaked past his lips, allowing him to taste his own fluid and he smiled. Blade motioned with a smile for Jimmy to come at him.

“C’mon, kid. Think you got the stones to take me? Or are you gonna sit there whinin’ like a bitch about your nose?”

“I’LL FUCKIN’ KILL YOU!”

“Then stop talking about it and fucking do it, you pussy.”

Jimmy roared again and charged at Blade. The Daywalker braced himself and when Jimmy came within range, he grabbed the vampire and hurled him through the window. Jimmy’s body shattered the glass and drew the stares of the crowd who gasped in horror.

Blade lifted a stake and threw it with practiced precision. It cut through the air before piercing Jimmy’s heart, reducing the vampire to cinder and ash that spread out among the throng of people who screamed.

“Where is he?” asked Elsie. Her voice carried from the town center to the school. “Are we playing hide and seek now, mister?”

“You bet we are, bitch…” muttered Blade as he descended the stairs of the building to the first floor, readying the chain.

“Where aarrrrrrrrreee you?” she asked in singsong.

Her answer came in the form of bottles with flaming rags sticking out of them flying into the parade. The molotov cocktails caused the vampires to back off, some of them, however, struck their marks. Then came the sound of a motorcycle engine revving. The bike surged through the front doors of the school, flying over the people and landing in the middle of the street.

Blade swung the chain around his head as he streaked out on the bike. It flailed out, wrapping around the throats of two of the vampire children. They hissed in pain as Blade dragged them behind his bike for a bit before finally jerking the chain and snapping their heads off.

The children now all pounced on him. He jumped from the bike and in midair reached into his coat, pulling out several small objects clutched in his fist. When he landed, he threw one of the objects, lodging it in the vampire’s snarling mouth. Smoke began to rise from the vampire’s throat and the child, a young girl, screamed in agony, the tiny cross burning through her skin.

Blade had about a dozen of those tiny crosses on him, each one with sharpened edges to cut into the vampires’ flesh. Each one found its mark, burning through about a dozen of the children.

He drew the aerosol can next and held a lighter in front of it. As he sprayed the aerosol, he lit the flame. It caught on the chemicals, becoming a rudimentary flame-thrower. A few of the vampires caught the flames instantly while others backed off, forming a circle around the Daywalker. He sprayed the flames, moving closer to the vampires, until the can rattled.

Tossing it to the side, Blade held the blowtorch in one hand and a stake in the other. As he moved through the throng of vampires, he alternated between scalding them with the torch or staking them, replacing the wooden tool with another whenever he needed.

“Now that’s enough!’

The voice came from Elsie and it was enough to cause the vampire children to halt their attack. They backed away from the Daywalker, who stood ready with a stake in each hand, the blowtorch now having run out of butane. He turned to the leader of this town and she slowly descended the steps.

“You are spoiling my fun!”

“Really? ‘Cause I’m having a ball,” said Blade.

“A year ago, I became a vampire and I turned all my friends into one, too. We took over the town, feeding on the adults,” said Elsie. She began to sing. “No more school, no more books. No more teacher’s dirty looks. Now, we can stay up as late as we want, we can play all the time. No chores, no parents telling us what to do. And we get to eat whenever and whatever we want!”

“Think you’re scary, little girl?” asked Blade. “I’ve dusted thousands of vampires, and all of them were a lot scarier than you.”

She growled and jumped at him. Blade was ready, throwing his arm up and jamming a stake into her throat. He dropped her to the ground with the stake still lodged in her neck, gagging as she began to choke on the blood.

“Maybe that’ll shut you up,” said Blade. He noticed the vampires were beginning to scurry away, and he realized why. The sky brightened and he smiled. Elsie tugged at his pants, her eyes begging him.

He did nothing, just watch as dawn came, Sunrise’s namesake was here and it bathed the town in warm light. And Elsie tried to scream as it came, as her body burned away to cinder and ash, as well as the bodies of her playmates who survived Blade’s attack.

The adults in the town just stood in stunned silence. Blade moved past them, collecting the discarded stakes and climbing aboard the bike again. He started her up, the engine revving between his legs and then he sped off into daybreak.

As he blazed a trail through the dusty roads, Frank, the old mechanic, stood and watched, lighting a cigarette. “Yessirree, that’s one mighty fine bike.”