The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #2 & #3) Read online

  “We watched a movie after so I’m sure I’m alright.”

  “Not a good idea that Shannon gave you wine when you’re not twenty-one yet.”

  “Soon. Soon I’ll be twenty-one,” which reminded me Garin taught me a human could not be turned into a vampire until twenty-one. The drinking age of more than one elixir.

  “I’ll have a talk with Shannon.”

  “No it’s ok. Among family.” I saw the familiar wrought iron fencing and brick face of my building. “There. Drop me off at the sidewalk.”

  “No, I’ll walk you up.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I insist.” He slowed his Taurus against the curb and we went up.

  I rummaged in my kitchen junk drawer. A few pizza store magnets scurried around under the other random bits. I caught them and pressed them over my new artwork ensemble. I stood back, “They’re really cute.”

  Michael said, “Yeah, they’re getting better at drawing. I always laugh when I see Julie’s drawings. She puts huge potato heads on her people.”

  “She focuses on the faces. Especially the eyes and talking mouths. James focuses on the robots.” I looked at Michael, “Great kids. What do you think if you fast forward and glimpse the adults they will become?”

  “Those adults will be here soon. I remember getting these types of drawings from you. And look at you now. Life speeds faster the older you get. I can’t imagine the whir of the machine of time by my eightieth or one hundredth birthdays. I’m glad Shannon will make that trip with me.”

  “I remember how the summers seemed so long when I was ten.”

  “Summer? A blink now. Enjoy it.” he turned and stepped out the door. He paused, “You’ve got a lot of exciting times before you. The big life choices. First job. Maybe marriage. Maybe kids. Financial decisions. An open road for you. Think before you leap but sometimes it’s the leap you don’t think about that eliminates the regrets. Keep your head about you and if you get stuck Shannon’s pretty smart and can help you think it through. Oh, give us a call when you want to retrieve your car.”

  “Thanks Michael.”

  -:- Four -:-

  Garin coiled his black Camaro down the ramps in the parking garage. Its new tires squeaked as they scrubbed around the polished concrete. The bright sunlight knifed across the hood as he rocketed out of the structure into the street and roared toward Ramsburgh Industries.

  Tall chain link fencing stretched around the plant. Four unfriendly layers of razor wire topped the fence fronted abruptly with aggressively trimmed trees and shrubs several paces outside the barrier. Garin eased his car to the security gate. The shiny black guard box squatted on the small island between the two strips of tire blackened concrete. A burly security guard stepped down from his booth, “Can I help you?” His mirrored sunglasses devoid of expression.

  “I’m Garin. I’m here to talk with Sandro Gruber, Vice-President of Engineering and Development.”

  “You have a meeting scheduled with him?”

  “No. But he’ll want to meet with me when he knows I’m here.”

  “Wait a moment.”

  The guard worked like a shadow behind the mirrored glass talking on a handset. He grabbed an ID card with a picture captured from the booth camera and Garin’s details scraped from multiple government databases. He came back to Garin.

  “Here’s your radio frequency ID Mr. Ramsburgh. I think you can park up by the executive spaces today. Use the one with Yashar’s name on it. Reminds me we need to get that changed since he’s not here anymore. Have a good day Mr. Ramsburgh.” The guard held the button for the metal gate to retract.

  “Thank you.” Garin shifted into gear and eased the car into the employee lot. A black SUV parked closer to the main lobby in the second to last spot. The placard on the wall stated Sandro Gruber. The nearest parking space remained empty of the previous Finance executive’s vehicle so Garin pulled into that space. Garin paused before the sign in front of his Camaro stating the prior Finance executive’s name. He reached for the metal plate and ignored how it gripped the concrete block wall with security headed stainless screws. His strong hands easily ripped the plate and the four three-inch screws from the concrete wall. He crumpled the aluminum plate like a sheet of paper as he walked toward the main entrance. He tossed the aluminum wad into a trash receptacle where it thundered around in the cavernous bin.

  Garin stood in the immaculate lobby amid the lounging couches and chairs that looked dated yet new and barely used. Plants hid stealthily in various corners or hovered over the edge of a chair as if furtively reading secret papers over someone’s shoulder.

  The smiling receptionist pulled her headset back and motioned to one of the couches, “He’ll be right up for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Garin as he continued to stand.

  Sandro gazed through the bullet proof glass door as he paused for a breath looking into the lobby. Then he took another step and the glass door sensor slid the door aside. “Good morning Garin,” greeted Sandro with a handshake. He motioned to a wood door opposite the sliding glass as he came through. “Please take a seat.” A dozen chairs stood army platoon straight around the mirrored granite table. The door clicked shut with the sound of a refrigerator seal. Sandro said, “I think you remember this is a secure room.”

  Garin said, “Yes,” and carefully watched the other vampire take a seat on the opposite side of the table from him.

  Sandro said, “It’s unfortunate Yashar was murdered. While I suspect the Militia caused it, I haven’t heard any results of the investigation. Any data or rumors or clues?”

  “It’s still being investigated.” Garin looked at Sandro’s eyes, “I want the financial records.”

  “You remember how Yashar explained that difficulty last time.” Sandro fidgeted. Disconcerting for a vampire. A human emotion vampires lost and often gave away a real human with nervous energy. “The top secret security nature of a military weapon development and manufacturing site precludes sharing the books.”

  “Did Yashar show you the business losses accruing?”

  “I know the austerity measures and budget compressions we deal with.”

  “What’s the strategy on R&D here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Companies spend months debating and arguing how to spend R&D. Two camps are always at odds. Continue spending on research because that’s the future products of the company or cut it because if existing operations flounder there will be no future company to produce those new products.”

  “That’s always the problem. We’ve been at it tooth and nail.”

  “Yes. I imagine you have.”

  “But we still cannot show you the books because of the nature of the business.”

  “Even if the books are cooked?”

  “What do you mean?” Sandro caught his back against his chair. The metal rivets squawked.

  “Take a look at this printout.” Garin shoved a half sheet of paper to Sandro from his folder. The page’s ragged tear shouted violence and anger.

  Sandro scanned the partial page, “Where did you get this?”

  A knock rapped on the door.

  “Come in,” blurted Sandro.

  The receptionist opened the door and brought in a pair of dark blue bottles of Massai drink the vampires consumed to keep the hunger at bay. The bottles jiggled on her little tray. Garin could smell her fear. She obviously had a certain level of security clearance and knew truths about vampires. Her fright issued from sensing the dangerous charges flicking around the room’s tight atmosphere. She had seen vampires in this mood before. She helped clean up a mess of accidental encounters before – in this room.

  “Thank you.” said Garin.

  She nudged the tray two inches from the edge of the polished granite conference table. Two inches more than she wanted to stay. Her fingers touched the smooth stone as she withdrew. The surface as cold as the vampires staring at each other across its expanse. She fled.
r />   “This isn’t from any quarterly report,” Sandro leaned forward, “this is the Engineering Department R&D account from last year.”

  Garin stared at Sandro, “I thought you’d recognize it.”

  Sandro glanced at the accusing numbers arrayed across the torn page, “Possession of the other parts of this page could be grounds for the FBI to detain someone.”

  “Possibly true.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  Garin stood. “I know Yashar approached the Bank of Draydon to sell the company and my Mother refused. I’m certain that’s why someone killed her. I see evidence of the financial train wreck escalating since her murder. I’m the majority investor and I’m demanding to see the books.”

  “Ahh …” stammered the VP. “I’m head of Engineering. Not much to do with the financial accounting.”

  “The anomaly you see is in your department. You’ll also know who in Finance is taking over Yashar’s responsibilities.” Garin reached for the door’s handle, “I want to see the books. Tomorrow at eight AM I want the books. If not then you’re fired. I still own this foolish place.”

  Garin drove into the lot wrapping around Commerce Bank and Trust at the end of Main Street in downtown Livix. He tugged on the entry door and quickly found the special service desks to the right of the teller windows. A few customers hovered like ghosts about the bank’s deep quiet.

  “May I help you?”

  “Yes.” Garin slid a sheet of paper across the desk to the branch manager. “I need to see the signature card for this account of mine.” He arrayed additional papers across the desk including death notices for his mother and corporate transfer documents associated with the will. “Here is my driver’s license and passport.”

  The bank manager returned with the signature card and frowned as she handed it to Garin. “There are quite a few people on here.”

  Garin looked down the list of names. His mother plus another he didn’t recognize along with Yashar’s and then Sandro’s flourishing signature. Sandro’s signature had been dated two days ago. Garin realized using my own money to buy my company! Garin set the card back on the table, “As owner of the account I want to rescind these signatures and create a new card with my signature alone.”

  “Any reason?”

  “I found someone cooked the company books and these other names were involved.”

  “Oh!” The bank manager brought up the account details on her monitor and spun the signature card around and collected it in her hand, “Good. Your mother’s signature is clearly the owner on the account, through the company. The others are only assistant signatures for the day to day business deposits and withdrawals.” The manager dropped a fresh card in front of Garin and he signed it. “I’ll also clean up the other account details.” she typed rapidly on the keyboard and Garin watched the flashing screens reflected in the round glasses dancing on her nose. “There. All set. Anything else?”

  “I wanted to confirm the balance in the account,” Garin wrote a number on a slip of paper, “Is this close, plus or minus five percent?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s close. Pennies different.”

  “Good. I might as well get a safe deposit box and tuck these papers in there. You can have the box fee automatically withdrawn from the account?”

  “Oh, yes. But your balance in that account is sufficient to waive the fee.”

  -:- Five -:-

  A black SUV bounded over the curb into the bank parking lot as Garin backed his car out of the parking space. The passenger window slid down and a chrome pistol thrust out by gloved knuckles, squeezing several rounds out of it. The first bullet hit Garin’s windshield and spun through the passenger seat into the rear seat pinging against the body sheet metal wrapping around the suspension well. A second bullet careened through the driver’s head rest but Garin had already ducked. The third cut through the top of the window and dug a trench through the headliner until it hit the underside of the roof metal and ricocheted into the rear seat and the heavy sound absorbing floor pan mastic vibrating the chassis with a thud.

  Garin planted his boot to the floor and spun the car in a tire smoking curl. His driving reflexes engaged as he tromped on the clutch and snapped the shifter through the gears. He dove into the supermarket parking lot behind the bank. The SUV bounced over another curb and chased behind him. The parked cars smeared into a blur. He narrowly missed a few elderly shoppers leaning on their carts. The SUV bashed through a family’s cart rounded up with several hundred dollars of packaged food. Frozen pizzas and pressed hamburger disks flew into the air like skeet shooting targets while broken jugs of milk burst upon the pavement. Garin’s accelerating speed transformed the huffing woofs of air breaking between the parked cars into a rapid machine gun staccato. Garin shifted into another higher gear. He pulled the wheel hard to avoid a row of kids sitting on a bench eating ice cream with their bikes sprawled about their feet. He became funneled between the store shipping docks choked with semis on one side and the rising turf embankment on the other. Garin down shifted and turned into an excessive speed mogul that lifted the car over the short wall and onto the grass. His momentum slid him up the embankment until his tires dug in. He pushed forward over the ridge between a pair of landscaping boulders and onto the service drive outside the grocery store property.

  The SUV crashed through the wall throwing red bricks thumping against the parked semis. The black vehicle bounded up the embankment with its four wheel drive close behind Garin.

  Garin navigated his car through a few more intersections while the SUV smashed the front of a red Sebring spinning it around into a blue ten-year-old Mustang. Garin could see the reflections now from other cars and buildings lighting the SUV interior enough to identify Sandro driving and three guards in black anti-vampire armor. He pushed his car faster. He might be able to outrun them on the freeway. But the Dodge they drove likely had a Hemi motor and it could keep up if Garin made any slight mistakes. He needed to use another advantage his car had. But first some distance. Garin launched onto I-6 and spun down I-25 taking M-4 toward Ann Arbor. They passed other speeding cars now with the same huffing woof warning of air velocity exchanges – baying like dogs on the pursuit. Garin used the Nelson road exit as its ramp turned sharper than other nearby ramps and had little banking as it came to regular street grade. The SUV’s higher center of gravity might entice the machine to flip and end the chase.

  Three guns pointed out the windows of the SUV and fired at him. Garin weaved among the other cars and stirred gravel and dust up from the sides of the freeway as he flew forward. He needed a sword to kill the vampires. “Why didn’t I pack one in here yet? Too sure of civilized resolution.”

  Garin came at the ramp and rounded to the left shoulder. Inches from the guard rail. Then he cut across the inside of the curve to snatch at any piece of banking the highway designers inspired themselves with when creating this exit. He came up the ramp and floated across the inflection with slivers of vaporous air under his tires. The wheels contacted the cement again and skidded through his steering. He spun the wheel about and righted the trajectory of the machine at the intersection light. The light flickered from green to yellow and red. Other traffic started up from the cross street.

  The SUV slammed on its brakes and still skidded around the inside of the guard rail. Sparks trailing like pheasant feathers. The rail held and forced the vehicle up the rest of the ramp and directly at the approaching light.

  Garin picked his path. A long low semi trailer pulled across the lanes carting a menacing Detroit Tiger stadium statue headed for downtown display. A few cars honked their horns at being cut off but the long trailer fought with the sharp turn.

  Garin came at the intersection. His speed and curling car demanded three lanes to make the turn. A small rusting Toyota with a driver that had gone on the gravel around the truck while busy flipping the driver his finger and swearing and honking didn’t see Garin’s shiny car flitting toward him. Garin’s rear fende
r grazed the Toyota and left streaks of nano-paint across its bumper. Then the SUV smashed into the side of the Toyota. The little car rolled over and over and over across the other lanes of traffic. Garin spun the steering wheel and his car straightened. The SUV careened through the opposite lanes as Sandro tried turning his vehicle and swerved between a delivery truck and two motorcycles. Garin nosed his car through the next two lights and turned west. He shifted into another gear as he crossed under the blinking light on the strip leading from town.

  “We’ve got him now,” said one of the armored passengers to Sandro. “There’s no road out of the old landfill except this one.”

  Garin accelerated and backed the steam off slowly draining down to a hundred. The SUV followed him quickening its pace assured of closing the gap. On the straight and flat section of road the SUV could catch up. Minor undulations in the blacktop at fifty miles an hour became little ramps and jumps. Garin’s car took them with ease. The SUV bounced. But that wasn’t what Garin waited for. He spun through the deeply banked turn at the end of the straight section and fought hard with his car up the tightly twisting road leading to the heights of the tallest hill in the county. At the second corner the charcoal remains of what had been an impressive oak tree thrust like broken fingers to the sky – angrily accusing the heavens of the lighting that rained down destroying it. Garin’s rear fascia kissed the charred trunk and spun his car in ever widening circles as he brought the nose around on the flat gravel and drove up the hill. He listened. The dull thump of the sound of a fist hitting a pillow cracked through the air. Jangling metal and plastic debris scattered. Garin pushed his brake to the floor and spun his car around.

  Dust billowed both hiding and revealing views of the SUV. The vehicle flew into the air and tumbled end over end while spinning on its axis like a drunken ballerina. Broken and unbelted vampire bodies split through the air. A bullet grazed across the hood of Garin’s car from a bounding side-arm. But the SUV landed upside down crushing Sandro’s torso and legs. The other bodies settled in the dirt. Dusty bodies ripped in pieces and wetly red at the tears like chunks of chicken rolled in dry batter before frying