The Book Previously Know As Better Dead Chapter 3!

Hey all!

Here is the third chapter to Spooky Times In Our Nations Capital!

THERE ARE RULES TO THIS!

1. These are still drafts. No outside editing has taken place. See an error? Dope. I bet there are more.

2. I am not looking for corrections or edits from the audience. Love ya'll, but that's a waste of everyone's time. Just sit back and enjoy!

3. Want to give thoughts? Those are more than welcome! Just not technical stuff and please understand this is still VERY subject to change. There is a very good chance this story will be published some day in the future and, like all stories, revisions will happen.

All of that out of the way, here is chapter 3! :) ENJOY!

A doc if you'd prefer rather than reading on Patreon: https://docs.google.com/document/d/13NsIqv5XYam35v5yduT02gbmg43vBUCx44f8BrXquIg/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 3 

As we pulled up to the boat slip, Shane glanced around, eyes wide with apprehension. "Whistler, I don’t see anyone, but we're gonna be spotted here, man."

Ignoring him, I walked around to the back of the car. Shane followed, his steps hurried and anxious.

"Whistler, c’mon, some trees aren’t enough to hide—hey, wait!"

Lifting the carpet from the trunk was easier than putting it in. Shane fumbled with the opposite end. I slung the carpet over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry. It was heavy but manageable. To Shane’s credit, he let go without protest as I headed toward the water. "So we’re not burning it then? I don’t think bodies sink!"

"’Her’, Shane. Have some class."

“I mean the–what are you doing?”

I ignored him as I waded into the river, my caution dissolving as the carpet became submerged. An odd quirk of my ability allowed me to bear most of my weight through small parts of myself still in the physical world. The water slipped through me, a fluid conduit of life and death. Its essence remained purifying, even beyond.

When my head submerged, I kept only my grasp in the physical world. The weight of the body lifted from my shoulders. My pace slowed as my boots lost their grip, momentum alone carrying me deeper. Below where even the lowest tide would reach, I let myself sink into the muck.

Bringing something as large as a body wrapped in a carpet through into the beyond was an incredible effort, but I managed with time, burying the evidence of Shane’s crime deeper than any normal grave. Satisfied that no excavation would reach it, I returned the carpet to the physical world, causing the soaked dirt to pulse as it struggled with the new mass.

Lost in the darkness, I whispered a prayer for the girl. My heart ached for her and the future that had been taken; for those who would grieve and mourn her. 

Did the kid deserve to die for his actions? For that, I didn’t have the answer, but I sure hoped not. The job was harder when the monsters took pleasure in the act.

I spoke to God, seeking forgiveness for the dark reality of my deeds. Kicking off the grave, I let natural buoyancy carry me back into the lukewarm water. My vision was stuck between the expanse of the beyond and the blinding filth downstream of D.C. Surfacing without a ripple, I rose over the potomac and the first light of the morning breached the sky. 

The boy stared dumbfounded at where I’d walked into the river, still unable to see my spirit before him. I gilded back toward the beach, returning to the world just enough for my shimmering form to become visible.

To my surprise, he didn’t back away, and was simply fascinated by my sudden appearance. "Dude, you just walked on water."

My feet returned to dirt. The gravitational weight of the world was crushing. "I floated."

"Yeah... I meant the rug—nevermind." Shane followed me back to the car, sparing a glance back out onto the undisturbed waters. "I don’t think I get it."

“What?”

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know, aight? So, of course I don’t get it. I feel the sun on my skin. I thought that would kill me. So I clearly don’t know shit. But I–I don’t want my m–mom to find out, okay? If you can promise me that, then I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

I cocked an eyebrow, fascinated.

"Can I bum a smoke?"

I scoffed at the question. "Are you eighteen?"

"Seriously?” He walked a circle letting out an exasperated groan. “We just—Fine. Yeah, I want to talk."

"Good." The engine started quickly, still fresh from our drive out here. I gestured toward his seatbelt and he buckled up without protest. 

I didn’t like how much more stable he seemed now that the body was gone. His eyes still carried a weight, but his shoulders relaxed as he stared back at the water. I wanted to believe this teenager wouldn’t make a habit out of hunting humans. If he’d been set up, there was a chance he would master his thirst, feed without killing, and join the thousands of others hiding in plain sight. He might even be taken in by a family and trained to truly take advantage of his curse.

For any of that to be possible, though, I had to figure out how to get him to answer a question.

As we turned off the dirt road and back onto the pavement, I asked, "So, would you mind telling me what the hell happened to you?"

"I woke up like twelve hours ago.” Shane didn’t notice my jaw fall open as he squinted in thought. “It was like coming out of a coma."

Twelve hours?

I was surprised Shane wasn’t trying to bite me, why he wasn’t absolutely rabid for blood. Usually, the first two days were nothing but a feverish haze driven by thirst.

"Shane, I’m not lying when I tell you no one—absolutely no one—would put someone in your condition into a room with anything warm-blooded and not expect exactly what happened."

His face twisted in a mix of denial and confusion. "I wouldn’t eat a dog if that’s what you mean."

I let the silence stretch, watching his bewilderment grow.

"That is not what I meant."

Shane turned his gaze back to the drifting trees, a new wave of emotions shadowing his face. "Can you just take me home, man? I need to shower again."

"When will your parents get home?" The question felt strange to ask.

"Mom goes straight back to her day job, sleeps on the bus."

"Your father?"

The silence that followed was immediate and telling. I didn’t push, sensing the boundary.

Shane shifted uncomfortably, mumbling, "War casualty."

"Afghanistan?" I felt a stab of guilt for my reflex to probe further.

"Yeah." Shane seemed not to notice, his eyes distant and lost in thought.

"I'm sorry. You must be proud of him."

The air within the car grew thick.

"He wasn't. Do you really need to know about my fucking dad, dude?" Shane's emotions surged, breaking through whatever seal had just cracked. "He joined to get a degree. Wanted to go white-collar for Mom and me. Got deployed, got back, and ate his pistol. So no, we don’t have to worry about my fucking dad." 

Shane's fist slammed into the car door, denting the plastic;it splintered into spider-webs, cracking the passenger window. He shouted, pulled back his bloody knuckles, and then let out a broken wail.

I let him purge himself of tears as we made our way back onto the highway, away from the Potomac and Shane’s first victim. 

Dealing with extreme emotions came with the territory for me, and this was hardly the worst reaction to becoming a murderer I’d seen. It was certainly preferable to the creeps who reveled in their actions, expecting me to have some twisted respect for their kills. 

Witnessing Shane’s all-consuming grief was strangely a relief. He just needed some other biters to look out for him.

Eventually, his sobs faded into silence, Shane coughed and rubbed the tears from his cheeks. "Sorry."

"You’ve got nothing to apologize to me for.”

He avoided looking at me, hearing the emphasis on ‘me’, and compulsively ran his hands through his hair. I searched for a way to steer the conversation back to what I needed to know.

"They never get treated right, soldiers like your father. It's horrible, happened all throughout history. A few medals are supposed to make up for... things that can’t be given back."

"He never got—" Shane took a long breath. "No purple hearts for how he got hurt. I think he got that from his shrink. Said something about acknowledging...—nevermind. I doubt listening to family issues is what you usually do."

I barked a laugh, and he jumped. "Oh, you have no idea. You have no idea."

"Really?" He seemed relieved by the shift in focus, so I indulged him.

"I’d say for more than half of my gigs, family comes up.”

"No shit?"

"No shit," I repeated. "Last week, I helped an old lady bury her husband."

"For real? A regular human?"

"For real, and yes." I said, smiling. "I can’t get her laugh out of my head. She cackled when I dropped him in his grave."

"Dude, that’s so fucked." He shared my smile, wiping his face one last time. "You gotta have the craziest job in the world. Is my case even that weird?"

"Lord, no. Not my worst this week." I lied. 

I could understand why that seemed to visibly relax Shane. Like many kids, he’d assumed tonight was the end of the world. It certainly was for someone, but rather unfairly, not for him. 

I didn’t think that would be smart to point out, so instead, I continued. "I see situations like yours all the time."

"So you think Kim was trying to get me to kill for her?"

Finally, I’d gotten a damn name. "A pretty good way to get away with murder is to get someone else to do it. How did you meet ‘Kim’?"

"I don’t know, she moved in a few streets over. Started going to my school."

"You haven’t been to her place?" I asked, knowing the answer. 

He didn’t want to see it. I understood—no one wanted to admit being betrayed. It came with a special kind of grief, cutting something that could never heal, only harden.

"Her parents are like the worst, man. Kim’s gotta sneak out just to chill on the weekend." Shane’s eyes drifted to some fond memory. "It’s fun sneaking around."

“Did you ever meet them?” I asked.

“Umm…no.”

“Seen them from a distance?”

“Not really.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. "A mystery girl moved in down the road, didn’t let you meet her family or see where she lived, then told you vampires exist."

Shane’s head jerked toward me. "I found out what she was all on my own, asshole. The pieces were there and I got suspicious."

It was good I had him talking. A couple more pokes and I’d get what I needed.

“Hm,” I sighed. “Followed her one moonlit night?”

“Yeah.”

"Shane, how sensitive is your hearing right now?" I asked carefully, trying to let him find the answer.

"Pretty crazy. I can hear outside the car freakishly well."

I nodded. "Think someone could follow you without you hearing? Someone that smells like human blood."

Shane rubbed his neck. "No."

"Whose idea was it to invite her over?" I encouraged.

Shane’s brow furrowed. "Well, Sydney and I were a real thing, but she’s going off to college. So, Kim understood I needed to wait until then to change me."

My hackles rose once again, suspicions all but confirmed. “Shane, why did you end up with Sydney at your house?”

“I didn’t invite her over. I remember Kim telling me she was on her way and that I was ready…” Shane’s words drifted off hollowly. He had ended a life with his bare hands. It may not have been entirely his fault, but the memory was entirely his. It would follow him forever in his immortality.

We passed into Fairfax, traffic finally gaining some momentum as we passed a three-car pile up.

"What the fuck is happening?” Shane pulled his face from his hands. “I don’t even think I’m processing."

I blew out a long breath. It had been easier when the kid was in shock. If it weren’t for the emotional numbing of becoming a vampire, I suspected he’d still be curled up in a ball. “So, when is your mom getting home? Long shift?”

"Tonight, if she doesn’t decide to sleep at the hospital," he said. "Don’t judge, aight? It’s a second job."

It was my turn to get defensive. "I wasn’t judging, Shane."

"She doesn’t exist to you—deal?” His hand cut aggressively through the air. “No family talk in the workplace."

"Deal," I agreed. "So where can we go find Kim?"

Shane hesitated, “I can try calling her but my phone’s back at my place.”

“What?” I cursed internally. “I didn’t realize you had a phone. Thought you called me from the landline.”

“Can’t you Casper it?” Shane asked as if it were obvious. “You said we’re going back for her car anyway.”

“That’s blocks away.” I sounded defeated, considering what might be waiting for us. Unfortunately for my stress levels, I couldn’t see a better option.

The rest of the drive back was emotional for the kid. Twice, he tried to hide tears from me before falling back into a numbed shock. It wasn’t until we pulled into his neighborhood that he snapped out of an empty stare and shook himself. 

Despite wanting to assure him that what he was feeling was normal given what he’d done, I was afraid he’d sense my relief. Death affects everyone differently, and a wide range of emotions is always expected. Joy at a memory could be quickly consumed by a wave of guilt for feeling anything other than grief. Grief itself is a word for an experience the mind is ill-equipped to handle, making it difficult to predict how anyone will respond to it. It would be wrong to judge Shane for lashing out, but his tears gave me a sliver of hope. I found myself silently praying the boy would find a path to a peaceful life.

“Look, Whistler,” He was hunched, looking past me. “This morning, before I called–hey, STOP!”

The car came to a jarring halt three blocks from his home, just before an intersection. "What?"

He pointed toward his home, hands finally still. "Cops."

I followed his eyes to a black SUV sitting with its lights off across the street from his home. Vehicles just like it could be found all over the capital. 

I felt a twinge of shame he’d spotted it before me.

Phasing my eyes, I took in the three souls wandering through the house, one left in the SUV. Two were male, two female. All four were living humans. 

One had killed recently. I knew by the twist to her existence, distorting the world around her. What bothered me most was a pull in the flow of existence toward their holsters. They were armed with something I hadn’t seen before, something that could touch the spirit world.

The pit that had slowly faded from my stomach returned with a vengeance as I watched the glowing form in the SUV pick up what had to be a radio.

We were spotted.

Shane screamed, starting me in my seat.

I blinked, realizing he was staring at me.

"Your eyes!" He panted, instinctively leaning as far away from me as possible.

Despite the panic climbing up my spine, I found myself hiding a smile. Quickly as I could, I put the car in reverse, hoping by some miracle the highway was clearing up during peak morning rush hour. "Looks like Kim called the feds on you, kid. Definitely trying to get you killed."

I slammed on the accelerator and spun the car around. In the distance, three suits were running from Shane’s house toward the SUV. We had seconds to lose our tail before backup arrived, making escape a far more daunting task.

The morning had officially gotten messy.

Shane stared behind us, knee tapping. "What? That’s the D.I.E.?"

"The Department of Information Eradication,” I said. “You chose a bad time to die, Shane. Uncle Sam just discovered our little community. Things have gotten tense in the neighborhood."

Shane’s eyes grew wide. "Supernatural F.B.I.?"

"Started that way. Though from what I hear, arrests aren’t exactly their thing." I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contact list as we blew past a stop sign, engine struggling to accelerate any further.

Piece of shit.

"Who are you calling?" Shane asked.

"I wanted to wait ‘til things smoothed out a bit but," I selected Jonette’s name, putting my phone on speaker, breaking as hard as I could to make the turn for the median. "Looks like you’re going to meet some serious D.C. players today."

It rang twice before a woman’s voice answered with one sharp whistle.

"Never gets old, Jon." I kept my eyes trained on  the rearview mirror. "Day ending or getting started?"

"Both and neither. What can I do for you?" Jon asked, her ever-fading French accent barely discernible over the phone.

"Put one in the dirt this morning but came home to dogs sniffing our tracks." I turned the car away from the highway onramp, causing a commuter to honk as they swerved to avoid me before the exit.

I could see traffic on the parkway was at a near standstill. 

"Looks like someone might’ve used a kid I’m with to kill a girl. Now I think that vamp just called the D.I.E. on him."

“Naughty, naughty.” Jon understood the implication. "Well, obvious next question. Who’s the dead girl?"

Shane stiffened when I gestured for him to answer.  My hand had to remain firmly on the wheel, eyes glued to the growing SUV headlights approaching in the mirror. He leaned forward, wearing an expression I found deeply disconcerting. 

"I probably should—Uh, do you want me to tell just you—no? Okay, well–uh–She’s this senator guy’s daughter."

I stopped checking the rearview mirror.

The line went dead.

"Look at the road, Whistler." Shane nearly crawled out of his seat as I stared at him, "Yo! Look at the road, man—the light!"

The approaching pickup truck managed a brief honk before it slammed into us.