The science fiction story revolves around Kayla who, while riding her bicycle to work, hits a football star who gives her a pair of earrings. She wonders why a hummingbird drone follows her when she wears the earrings. She is later saved from potential violence by an Alien Stranger who gives her a necklace to sell for him. From there, her story gets more interesting…
Hey Guys! Sorry for the late update.. Life kinda got in the way this week - in fact this whole month is going to be pretty busy so updates might be a bit shorter and more sporadic... but I'm going to do my best to keep on schedule!
(Benny) [Night had fallen and the moon was high. Makin' my way down Bourbon street, I kept a careful eye on the party crowd but it was still early enough that most of them were hoppin' between clubs and not driftin' into alleys for a little private time. My kind
tended to hunt in those alleys. At least they did until I came to town and made it a tricky business for them. Word was gettin' around that I had turned on my own. These days I had a target on my back. They tended to come for me first. But after 50 years in Purgatory, a single vamp was no match for me. I'd taken down as many as 6 at a time. So the alleys were fairly safe for the time bein'. I turn off Bourbon Street and make my way to the Basin Street gates of St. Louis Cemetery. Glancin' around to be sure the local gendarmes weren't makin' one of their rare patrols, I jumped the fence and started my patrol among the dead. I'm alone now, but I won't be for long. The spirits of the dead are strong tonight. Ole Marie must be movin' about. I'll bide my time. Somethin' will pop before the moon goes down*
(Jo) -Her phone was on silent so she would not give away her location while hunting to the enemy. It could prove to a fatal mistake and she was thorough. Small as she was she played to her strengths learning the hard way more than a few times. Her bag packed specifically with objects that could be used in multiple situations. Several guns different caliber and ammo stock, smaller size iron crow bar which was easier for her to handle and she always wore gloves out of habit so prints would never be left behind.
More was stowed away in various pocket's, hunting was dangerous even more so alone. She planned on living to an old age so preparation was key Rustle of leaves with the sweet smell of Magnolia blossoms made her smile despite her current location. Not far from her to the north she heard what sound like a chain being rattled. Ducking into the shadows back to cold stone walls housing the dead. Inching forward to peer around the corner, two young guys were laughing and talking loudly. Listening to them goad eachother, probably teenagers being stupid.
About to turn and keep searching when a smell caught her sensitive nose. Immediately she wanted to puke, it smelt of formaldehyde and death. Hunching down low she got eyes on them again. Eyes widened, fuck was that an arm he held? Her stomach rolled again annoying her, sucking it up she took out a Double Eagle .50 caliber loaded confident a few rounds and there would be nothing left of their heads to worry about. Soon as she fired though all bets would be off so she'd have to make it count.
Plus the gun had so much kick she'd had it modified with a short stock on his to have the ability for accuracy. Putting her pack down creeping forward she wanted to make damn sure she only had to fire a couple of rounds. What she did not notice was some older ghouls watching the younger ones. Squeezing off the trigger blowing a huge hole in one's head, a cry erupted from the east. She didn't hesitate firing again this time he'd ducked out of sight.
Taking off in a run for the open mausoleum door to have cover. Hearing them behind her she fired off several rounds hitting one in the leg but still three coming. Then all of a sudden it got really quiet. Pitch black in here she tried to even out her breathing, turning on a small flashlight to keep her direction. Reloading she stood run aimed as she kept an eye out for movement.
How one got behind her she had no clue but when he hit her the force jarred. Flashlight and gun dropped from her fingers and in a split second she felt teeth bit into her. Screaming out reaching for her knife slashing away. Over powered she went down hard, shirt torn away foul stench near her face. Kicking and clawing she fought back to no avail. Hunks of flesh taken out of her in various places, blood began to pool on the floor. Mind was hazy before blacking out.-
(Benny) The evenin’ mists swirled around my feet as I walked thru the city of the dead. That’s what St. Louis Cemetery was, with its mausoleums and crypts. Little houses for souls that shoulda’ been gone long ago. Many/had/left but there was somethin’ about N’Awlins that people hated to leave, so their spirits hang on long after their bodies were decayed and crumbled. And old Marie’s ghost was always lurkin’ and that’s a draw in itself. ‘Spose I oughta’ do somethin’ about that one day but she was quiet as long as the livin’ kept leavin’ their offerings at her crypt… beads, an empty bottle of rum, flowers…those things pleased her and kept her quiet.
Yes, there were a lotta’ spirits here but as most weren’t causin’ trouble, I’d leave them alone to concentrate on the things that were. Mah moonlight patrols were usually quiet right to up the point where they suddenly weren’t and I was in it, but tonight mah amped-up vampire senses were pickin’ up sounds where there’ shouldn’t a been any. Though I’d made my way around the outer edges and was back on Liberty Street, the noises were comin’ from almost back where I’d started, near Basin Street. Chains rattlin’, low laughter….tourists or kids maybe? I start towards it when suddenly I hear gunfire and then I’m runnin’, vamp super-speed kickin’ in as I cut thru the boneyard, weavin’ thru crypts and monuments, jumpin’ the ones that were too close together to weave around. More gunfire and then almost silence but I can hear quiet movement. As I get closer I jump a body, its head blown off and see another layin’ on the ground, holdin’ its leg near an open mausoleum. My nose wrinkles at the scent of decay and formaldehyde. Ghoul and it’d been eatin recent. I look at it in disgust and stop to finish what someone else started.
Grabbing a hunk of crumbled gravestone, I bash in its head even as the monster tries to bite me. Before the brain spatter has settled, I hear a scream from behind the open crypt door and rush in. It’s dank and dark but mah sensitive night vision lets me take in the scene in a flash. A girl lays unconscious on the ground in a pool of blood. Three ghouls over kneeling over her ripping and gnawing at her flesh. She was alive, at least until a few seconds ago. But whether she’s dead or alive, these 3 aren’t having her. I grab the nearest by his waistband and swing him away from her, throwing him headfirst into the crypt wall. His skull crunches satisfyingly and shatters like an eggshell, brains oozing out onto the floor. No time to enjoy the sound though, the other two had stopped their ravening assault on her body and were comin’ for me. I just laughed. The scent of blood in the air was like the finest cognac, heady and freeing and my vamp self came to life, fangs descending. Fifty years in Purgatory had honed mah skills to a razors edge. These two were easy prey for me. I snarl at them, eyes feral and fierce as they rush me.
I sidestep the first easily and grab the second by the head. Snapping his neck, I drop him to the floor, not dead yet but incapacitated for the moment. The first grabs for me from behind and I shove us both backward until his spine thuds against the wall. He’s stunned and I twist from his grip and turn on him. I can see the fear in his eyes now. It calls to that which was once in me, that evil thrill. It takes me sometimes in a battle like this. I throw him to the ground next to the bleeding girl and pin him with my knee in his chest. ‘You picked the wrong place to feed’ I hiss at him as I reach down and grip his head between my hands and twist sharply, ripping his head from his shoulders and throw it aside. The metallic twang of blood is so strong in the air now that I’m lost in it. I turn toward her, looking down at her bleeding body. Her shirt’s ripped off and open wounds are flowing freely. Blood glistens in the dim light that only my sharp eyes can pick up and the temptation is so strong.
Fresh blood just lying there, still warm and alive. I can hear it flowing through her veins, her pulse a drumbeat in my ears, not so strong as it might, but enough. I’m’ fightin’ it so heard but the cravin’ is almost overwhelm’. I can hear her heartbeat, callin’ to me and I lean down towards her…and then I hear somethin’ else that draws me up short and brings me back to myself. My fangs retract and I take a shaky breath. Kneeling down, I rip my shirt off and use it to bind the wounds around her midriff tightly. As I scoop her up in my arms I make a decision. She could use a hospital but from the way I can hear her blood pulsing I can tell they didn’t get an artery and her vital organs are still intact.
The worst of it is blood loss. I can deal with this myself and avoid questions about what and where. There are four dead here, soon to be five and I don’ need any cops makin’ connections between these dead bodies and this live one. I walk towards the mausoleum door carryin’ her and stop for a moment, standing over the one left breathin’, his neck broken but his eyes still alive. You gotta’ destroy the head on a ghoul to kill it. I look down at him and say “sorry, but not sorry” as I bring my boot down hard on his face and crush his skull. With that, I walk back out into the city of the dead, determined to keep this one girl among the land of the living.
(John) The past couple of days had been rough. He'd say they'd been Hell, had he not experienced Hell firsthand. No, it hadn't been as bad as that; nothing anyone could experience in real life, short of being tortured, was as bad as that. But goddamn, if he didn't wish he could blot those days out. Take a pencil and erase them. The bottle was the next best thing. He'd been chasing the pain away with whiskey, liver be damned.
He hadn't heard anything else from Jo since he'd texted her back, and based on what she'd said to him, he wasn't sure he'd ever hear anything from her ever again. She said it was to save him and Dean from experiencing too much pain, but how could he be sure? What if he'd done something wrong, fucked up so majorly that she couldn't bear to be around him anymore?
He was a piss-poor father, he knew that, but he'd been good to Jo... it just kept going around and around in his head, and he couldn't turn his mind off. No amount of alcohol seemed to help, and he looks as though he's aged about ten years in these past few days. John knows it's probably for the best for him to go out, do things, maybe even hunt and get his mind back on track. Hard to do when you're nursing a broken heart* TBC
