Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters: Creation, Page 2

“Take that you alien trash!” Jake yelled out in triumph as his alliance of green army men and plastic red cowboys swarmed over the evil alien invaders. Though his forces had been almost decimated by the alien’s surprise attack, they had somehow managed to regroup and pull off a stunning victory.

  The toughest of his men, an especially rugged Marine, named Sergeant Awesome, tossed the broken remains of the aliens' general, a fiend named Lord Destructus, off the summit of Mount Desktopia. “Victory!" Jake yelled out, pumping his fists into the air, a plastic hero clutched tightly in each of his small hands.

  “You have won this day, fools!” The evil Lord Destructus stumbled to his feet, pulling his arm back into its socket. “But we shall return!”

  “And the same thing will happen again, Destructus, you coward!" Sergeant Awesome roared down at him. “Next time bring more than just a . . .”

  “Damn it, John, I’m sick of this crap!” His mom’s voice carried into his room, interrupting Sergeant Awesome's speech.

  “They’re fighting again?!” Jake sighed. He had been listening to his parents argue off and on for the past three days.

  The central air conditioner had gone out for the fourth time in two months and his mom was not happy about it. Moreover, the fact that it was a hundred and ten degrees in the shade did not help matters much.

  Dropping his toys to the stained beige carpet, Jake walked over to close his bedroom door but stopped just as it was about to click shut, his curiosity getting the better of him. Creeping ever so quietly he pulled the door open a few inches and peeked out just in time to see Julia throw her arms angrily in the air.

  "John, do you have any idea how hard I work? Do you? I'm killing myself trying to dig us out of this hole!"

  "I know that, Julia," John started to say, but was quickly hushed by a fiery look from his wife.

  "I work twelve hours a night and all I want to do is come home and sleep in a cool house. Instead I come home to . . . to this!" She motioned around the room with both hands. "It's a hundred and ten degrees outside, John! And it's at least ninety-five in here! How the hell am I supposed to sleep when it’s this hot inside the house?!"

  John stared down at her from his six foot six height, his eyes fuming mad. “What do you want me to do, Julia?" He crossed his tree trunk size arms over his chest. "I can't control the goddamn weather!"

  "Don't you dare talk to me that way!" She yelled back. "I'm not asking you to control the goddamn weather! I just want the goddamn air conditioner fixed! This is just ridiculous, I can’t believe . . ."

  "I'll tell you what,” John said, interrupting her rant, "since you're such an expert, why don’t you come up with a way to get the two hundred and fifty bucks to get it fixed! You bitch and complain enough, why don't you do something about it!”

  Though he loomed over her by more than a foot, Julia was not the least bit intimidated. She had a fire in her eyes that John fueled into a raging inferno. “Oh that's funny! Like I don't do enough around here?" She turned her back on him, clenching her fist in anger. "Here’s an idea!” she screamed back, turning and staring right into his hard, brown eyes. “How about you do something for a change! How about you get off your ass and find a job!”

  Oh man, here we go, Jake thought to himself. Though he knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the onslaught he knew was coming.

  John had been laid off from his job in the oil field for nearly a year. The price of oil had taken a nosedive overnight, instantly cutting the incomes of hundreds of families all over Midland. Even after a year, the price per barrel had yet to come back up, and when you lived in a city that's economy was based almost entirely on the price of oil, that was a very bad thing.

  To his credit, he had been looking for work every day since, often taking odd jobs wherever he could. However, mowing yards and patching the neighbors' roofs wasn’t bringing in the kind of income his old job had. Not by a long shot.

  Julia, who had been a housewife/stay at home mom, for over seven years, went back to work as a nurse almost immediately. Nevertheless, even with her working sixty hours a week at Midland Memorial, it wasn’t bringing in enough income for them to keep the same standard of living.

  The mortgage, credit cards, car payments, all that had been no problem to pay before, became almost impossible to pay. Past due notices started building up until finally the loans were all called in at once. Bankruptcy had been their only option. In the blink of an eye, they had lost almost everything.

  Before Jake even grasped what was going on, they were moving out of their big two-story house and into a tiny two-bedroom rental on the seedier side of town. After it was all said and done Jake was just happy they were still a family, though admittedly not always a happy one.

  John had always been a proud man, so not being able to provide for his family was a huge blow to him. As if it made him less of a man. Therefore, Jake had expected him to fully explode at Julia's harsh words. However, the giant of a man somehow managed to keep his cool. Even from where he stood, Jake could see the pain in his eyes.

  John ran both of his calloused hands through his hair and barely above a whisper said, “Julia, you know that I have been looking. Every single day I look and look and look. I've put in applications at damn near every business in town. I’ve mowed yards, painted houses, cleaned out gutters. I don’t know what else I can do!”

  “There’s got to be something else you can do, John?” she pleaded, her voice softening. “I can’t do this alone, John. I just can't.”

  “Then let me call Billy,” he pleaded back, his right hand gently brushing through her dark brown hair. “Just one job would be enough to get us out of this hell hole. We could move out of this dump. Get our old life back.”

  “No, John! No!" she said, knocking his hand away. "You know it wouldn’t be just one. There’d be another and another. I don't want our old lives back. I want my husband! I'm not going to be a widow and Jake is not going to lose his father just so that we can live in a nicer house, or drive nice cars again,” Tears welled up in her soft green eyes. “Damn it, John, you promised me you were done after what happened to Terry!”

  “I know I did, baby, but . . . I don’t know what else I can do! I don't even have a high school diploma. There's only one thing that I'm really good at and you won’t . . .” John lowered his head in defeat. “No, I’m not going to blame you for me quitting. It was my decision,” He sighed deeply. “My only other option is Rough-necking, but no one is hiring.”

  "John, listen to me," she whispered, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her gray cotton sweatshirt. "I don't want to do this . . . God knows I don't want to, but I’m going to call my dad and borrow the money. After all, he's got more than he could ever use,” Julia laid her hands gently on her husband’s chest. “We're not worrying about this for another second.” She managed a weak smile.

  “Oh that’s a wonderful idea!” He said, gently grabbing her hands in his own. “Just call the miserable old bastard up and let him know where we are. I’m sure he’d just love to pay someone off at C.P.S. and have us deemed unfit parents. You know what will happen if they start digging into our past. They will ask questions that I won't have answers for.”

  Julia jerked her hands away from his grasps. “That’s not fair John. It’s really not. I know he's not perfect but he would never do something like that.”

  “Julia, you know what kind of man he is,” John said, softening his tone. “If he finds us . . . if we show even an inkling of weakness, he will pounce on us and have Jake taken away.”

  At this point Julia had tears streaming down her cheeks. Jake couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Gently closing the door, he dropped back to the carpet, and leaned his back against his bed. Picking up one of his toys, he stared at it for several minutes as the argument continued down the hall. Their voices were muffled but he could
still make out the words.

  "Well, Sergeant Awesome, it looks like we lost the battle after all." Giving up on trying to tune them out, he tossed the action figure across the room where it bounced off the lid and landed in his toy box. One by one he picked up the rest of his toys until the floor was completely clean.

  When he was done, he leaned back on his hands and stared up at the broken ceiling fan hanging loosely above. A bead of sweat ran down his back causing him to itch. Stretching his arm, he tried desperately to scratch it but gave up as it progressed down his spine followed by several more.

  Even by West Texas standards, it was hotter than normal. Yesterday's high had topped at a hundred and eight degrees, making it the twentieth day in a row of record temperatures. Today made twenty-one. Even when the air conditioner had been working, it had done little to keep that kind of heat at bay. At least the moving air was better than the sweltering inferno Jake found himself now living in.

  Behind a set of yellow, smoke stained mini-blinds, his unopened window sat begging to be opened. However, he knew if his dad caught him opening it even a crack he would be in really big trouble.

  For some reason that Jake had never been able to ascertain, John had serious problems with unlocked or left open doors and windows. Especially after dark. No matter how hot it was, he would not allow them to open a window. He was even more on edge after the sun went down.

  Jake couldn't even begin to count the number of times he had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, only to find his father sitting in the dark, his eyes wide open, always watching, always listening. His body jumping at every creak the old house made. Even stranger was that each time he was sitting in a different spot. One time Jake found the TV blaring loudly in the living room with John sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor of the darkened kitchen. The next time he was in a chair leaning against the wall of Jake's room.

  Jake knew it wasn't because they lived in a bad neighborhood either. John had had the same strange late night habits at their old house as well. It was as if he was expecting something bad to happen at any moment. It had unnerved Jake to the point that unless it was an absolute emergency, he did his best to hold in his pee. He asked his dad on several different occasions if everything was all right, and John's reply was always the same: "Everything is fine. Go back to bed."

  Nevertheless, deep down Jake knew everything was not fine. He may have only been ten, but he could read between the lines. He wasn't afraid of his father, though the sight of a grown man sitting quietly in the dark was a bit unnerving. Far from it, he loved his dad more than anything. It was what his dad seemed to be afraid of that frightened him. If a man the size of John felt the need to keep a watchful eye on his family at all hours of the night. What could a boy of Jake's size ever hope to do against something so terrifying?

  Another bead of sweat made its way down his back. Jake thought over the risk of getting in trouble for a good minute, his parent’s voices growing louder with each passing second. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders, deciding the risk was well worth the reward. “Sorry, Dad,” he said aloud.

  Jumping to his feet, he practically ran to the window. Turning the rusty lock, he grabbed a hold of the bottom and yanked up with all his strength. It squeaked open about half way then stuck. A slight warm breeze eased through, teasing him.

  “Awe man, come on!” He yanked again to no avail. “Does nothing work in this dump?"

  Taking a deep breath, he pulled for all he was worth, but the window wouldn’t budge another inch. He struggled for a few more seconds before finally giving up. “You win this round.” He said, giving it an angry glance. Though even that tiny movement of fresh air did make him feel slightly cooler. Well . . . it's better than nothing.

  Jake dropped on to his bed and using the front of his black t-shirt wiped the sweat off his forehead, leaving a very large wet spot on the front of it. Grabbing a Superman comic off the nightstand, he began rigorously fanning himself. The voices coming from the living room were now yelling, the argument in full swing.

  There was no shutting them out when they were like this, so Jake picked up the taped up headphones to his Sony Walkman and put on his newest Motley Crüe tape. A couple of hours, a change of batteries, and several tapes later a loud knock came at his door.

  Julia opened it a crack and peeked through with a bright smile on her face. Her kind green eyes had only the tinniest bit of puffiness to show she had been crying. She was dressed in her dark blue work scrubs, its pockets stuffed full with pens. Her long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. In her right hand, she held an ice-cold glass of lemonade. She looked at Jake, her eyes instantly lighting up. “Hey, Jakey,” she said, leaning against the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Hey, Mom,” Jake replied, pulling the headphones down around his neck. “Yeah you can come in; I was just listening to some music.”

  “How are you, baby?” she asked, handing him the ice cold glass, before plopping down on the bed next to him with an exaggerated, “Humph!”

  Jake took a long drink, the lemonade so cold he could feel it as it poured down his throat and into his stomach. He set the glass down on his nightstand then chomped noisily on a piece of ice. “I’m okay," again he wiped his brow with the front of his shirt. "Just hot. Really hot. But the lemonade definitely helped. Thanks, Mom," he smiled.

  “You’re welcome,” She smiled back, laying her head on his shoulder. “Hopefully we’ll get the AC fixed in the next few days and things will be a little more bearable.”

  “Yeah,” he said, staring up at the cracked popcorn ceiling above. He knew she meant well but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  “Well . . .” she said slowly. “Time to go to work, and of course I’ve got the graveyard shift for another two weeks.”

  "Well that's great," Jake said sarcastically. "What time will you be home?”

  “Sometime after seven. But I’ll make you a deal, be good for your dad and I'll bring you back some breakfast burritos from JumBurrito. Kay?”

  Jake smiled at her. “You know me too well.”

  “Course I do. I’m your old Ma! Well, maybe not old . . .” They both laughed as she hugged him tight then kissed the top of his forehead.

  She was almost out the door when Jake stopped her. “Mom? Before you go . . . can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything, baby. What's up?”

  Jake let out a nervous sigh. “Why do you and Dad have to fight all the time?”

  Julia frowned, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. “How much did you hear?”

  “Pretty much everything,” Jake shifted uncomfortably.

  Julia sat down on the end of the bed, her eyes scanning around the room as if searching for just the right words. A deep, uncomfortable quiet hung over them. Outside a car with its stereo’s bass booming went down the street, their next-door neighbor's dog barked loudly. Julia licked her dry lips before speaking. “Jake, baby, you know I love your dad. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah I know,” Jake nodded. "But why can’t you two just get along?” he asked, frustration filling his voice. “Why can’t things just be like they used to be?”

  Julia sighed, her eyes filled with sadness. “I know, Jakey. Believe me, I wish the same thing too. But things are very hard right now and grownups don’t always get along. That’s just the way it is.”

  “I know, Mom, but Dad’s doing the best he can! It’s not his fault all this happened. Why do you have to be so hard on him?”

  She sighed again, pulling at the matching dark blue scrunchie holding her ponytail. “I’m just frustrated. Your dad is frustrated, plus this miserable heat . . . sometimes it’s all too much for us. You hold it in as long as you can but sometimes it just boils over and you explode. Today was just one of those days.”

  Jake knew she loved
his dad. He never doubted that, but the anger that came out in her scared him. He had a feeling that sometimes it scared her too. “I know you have to go, Mom, but can I ask you one more thing?”

  She ruffled his messy brown hair with her fingers. “You can ask me anything? I’ll always make time for you.”

  “Okay,” he said, though he knew she wouldn’t want to answer this one. Anytime he ever asked about his grandfather, her father, she would shut down completely, always making excuses to change the subject. Jake had a feeling he hadn’t exactly qualified for father of the year. “Mom . . ." he started slowly. "Why does Dad hate Grandpa so much? If he can help us, why not let him?”

  The smile she had instantly disappeared. She cleared her throat nervously, “I really wish you hadn’t heard all that. You really need to stop listening in on our conversations.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s not exactly hard! These walls are paper thin, and you two weren’t being very quiet either.”

  For a brief second she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we weren’t, were we? But some things are better left between grownups. Understand?”

  “I guess so,” Jake said, fiddling with the black tape holding together his headphones. “But you said I could ask you anything.”

  “Fair enough,” she nodded, but still didn’t make eye contact. “Jake, your grandpa isn’t a very nice man. Even when I was a little girl, I had a hard time getting along with him. Especially after my mother and brothers . . . well, I won’t get into that right now. But the fact is he’s never made any effort to get along with anyone, especially your dad. He hated John the minute he laid eyes on him and from that moment on he made things very hard for both of us.”

  “But Dad said he would try to take me away. Why would he do that if he’s never even met me?” Jake asked, genuinely perplexed. “He can’t be that bad.”

  Julia looked down at her watch. “Damn, I’m going to be late. Look, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Okay? I promise.”

  Jake knew she was just avoiding the subject, but he didn’t want her to get into trouble at work, so he nodded that he understood.

  “You’re a smart boy, Jake," she smiled. "Sometimes I honestly forget that you’re only ten."

  Jake managed to fake a smile for her, which she instantly saw through. She placed a hand on his shoulder then said, "Jakey, honey, listen . . . I want you to know, that whatever happens, I love you more than anything in the entire world. More than life itself. Don’t ever forget that,” She placed another kiss on his forehead. “Behave for your dad and don’t stay up all night watching TV. I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” She blew him a kiss as she rushed out the door.

  “Love you too, Mom!” He yelled after her. He heard his dad’s voice in the hallway and though she just told him to stop eavesdropping, he couldn’t help himself. He tiptoed over to the door and again peeked around the corner.

  John had her enveloped in a giant bear hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. "I hate fighting with you."

  “Me too, babe,” she replied into his chest. She lifted up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. John playfully lifted her off the ground, until her feet swung in open air. She laughed and swatted at him with her hands. “Let me down you big ox! I’ve got to go to work!”

  John dropped her back to her feet and lovingly kissed her on the lips. “Love you, baby. I'll see you when you get home.”

  “Love you too!” she said, opening the front door. “Don’t let Jake stay up all night. And Jake! Stop eavesdropping!”

  Jake ducked back into his room, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since Sergeant Awesome’s victory over the alien menace. For a brief moment, he barely even noticed the sweat clinging to him.

  Walking over to the window he waved as Julia started the engine on her little blue Nissan. The drive belt squealed loudly. She backed out of the drive, waved back then pulled down the street out of sight.

  "Hey, buddy,” John’s voice, sounded behind him, causing Jake to jump.

  Though he stood right at six feet six inches tall and weighed in at three hundred twenty pounds, almost all of it muscle, he could move swift as a cat when he wanted to.  He had short, dark brown hair, with a trimmed beard and mustache, his eyes were a deep dark brown.

  "Hey, uh, Dad," Jake said, realizing he was about to be in big trouble.

  "Jacob Michael Griffin,” John’s eyes narrowed in on the open window.

  Oh crap, here it comes, Jake thought. "Yeah, Dad?"

  "What is the rule about open windows in this house?"  John crossed his arms over his chest, giving Jake his most terrifyingly serious stare.

  "Uh," Jake stammered, nervously. His dad had never laid a hand on him, but the very sight of such a massive man looming above was more than enough to put the fear of God into him.

  Keeping his voice low John said, “You never, ever leave a window or door open or unlocked in this house. Especially after the sun sets."

  "I know, Dad.  It's just, it got really hot and my fan isn't working . . . and besides the sun hasn’t set yet . . .” he trailed off. This clearly wasn't the time for excuses, so he quickly closed his mouth. "I'm sorry, Dad, it won't happen again."

  "See that it doesn't,” John walked past him and easily shut the window with one hand. "Now get washed up.  Dinner is on the table."

  “Yes, sir,” Jake said, stepping past him. Whew! Dodged that bullet!

  Stepping into the bathroom Jake washed his hands then splashed some cold water over his face and neck. The coolness felt amazing against his skin, though it only lasted a few brief seconds. Toweling off he walked into the kitchen. John was already seated at the ugly green card table that now served as their kitchen table. Memories of the giant dining room they had countless family dinners on flashed through his mind. He couldn't help but lick his lips at the memory of plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, with freshly baked biscuits. Disappointment filled his face when he saw the less than succulent meal waiting for him.  With a heavy sigh, he sat down across from his dad and pulled the plastic cover off his microwave TV dinner.

  "Yeah, I know,” John nodded as if he'd just read Jake's thoughts. "I miss it too, but the oven went out yesterday evening so this will have to do until I can get it fixed."

  Great. Jake thought to himself. At least there’s not much left in his dump to break! For the rest of the meal they ate in complete silence, both with beads of sweat streaming down their faces and wet rings around their shirt collars.

  Jake started to ask his dad something about when the oven might get fixed when the doorbell interrupted him. John turned and looked out the window over the sink. The last rays of the sun streamed through. Turning back, he motioned with his head to the door. “Would you get that, Jake?”

  “Uh . . . sure,” Jake dropped his fork to his plate then rose to his feet. Once at the front door he turned the four deadbolts and pulled back the two chains. With a grunt, he opened the heavy oak door to find a short, gangly looking man in his mid forties. He had jet-black hair hanging down over his ears and was dressed in a cheap gray sports jacket with a Hawaiian theme tie, a pair of Wrangler jeans, and a scuffed pair of black cowboy boots. In his right hand he held a six-pack of some cheap, off brand beer Jake had never heard of. Three bottles were missing. It was one John's old work buddies, Marty White.

  “Hey, Jack,” Marty said, smiling a mouthful of yellow teeth with an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Is your old man in?”

  “Hey, Mr. White,” Jake said, not even bothering to correct the mispronunciation of his name. “Dad’s in the kitchen.”

  “Cool,” Marty said, stepping past him. A whiff of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer assaulted Jake's nose.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Marty yelled out, holding the half-empty six-pack over his head as if he
’d just won the World Cup. He set the beer on the table then slapped John hard on the shoulder. “What’s up, Big John?”

  “Hey, Marty,” John said, pushing out one of the black metal chairs with his foot. “How’d the interview go?”

  “Ah shit you know,” Marty dropped into his seat then lit his cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. “Bunch of commie, liberal bastards. They don’t want a real man! They want some pencil pushing bitch that will follow orders. By God, John, I tell you, this country is headed to hell in a hand basket. No one gives a shit about the working man anymore,” he took a drag from his cigarette then leaned back in his chair. "Don't they realize it was men like you and me that built this country? All we needed was a few rounds of ammunition and some good ole rock and roll! Now the whole thing is built on nothing but shitty rap music and nerds on computers.”

  “Watch your language Marty,” John motioned toward Jake, who was still standing since Marty had taken his chair.

  “Ah shit, kid, I’m sorry,” He pulled a bottle of beer from the pack and opened it on the edge of the table. In less than a minute, he had emptied the entire thing down his throat. He belched loudly then wiped his mouth with his tie. “Just been one of those days is all. How ‘bout you, Big John? Have any luck with Jester’s outfit?”

  John shook his head, “No, they said they weren’t hiring. Check back in six months,” John sighed. ”The same as Simmons, the same as J.W. Poe, hell the same as K--Mart! No one is hiring in this economy."

  “Man you said it, brother,” Marty slammed his empty beer bottle down on the table. "Check back in six months!" he said in a high-pitched voice. "Might as well be six years! Don't they realize a man needs to feed his family? Well, I say the hell with ‘um, let’s go get drunk and shoot some pool! Whadaya say?”

  “Sorry Marty," John shook his head no, "not tonight. Julia’s got the night shift again so someone's got to watch Jake.”

  Marty took another long drag off his cigarette, and then tapped the ashes into the empty beer bottle. “Ah shi . . . uh . . . shoot that’s right," he said cracking open another bottle. "Musta slipped my mind. But hell Jake can watch himself can't you, big guy? What are you now, fifteen? Sixteen?"

  Jake snickered. People often thought he was older than he was. In fact for as long as he could remember he'd always been the tallest in his class.

  John rolled his eyes then laughed. "Marty, he's only ten, and no he won't be staying alone."

  "Ten? Damn, boy, you're gonna be a big-gun like your old man, ain't ya?"

  "Uh . . . yes sir." Jake nodded, unsure of what else to say.

  "Well, I’m headed to Freddie’s if you change your mind. Meeting a few of the boys.”

  Marty got up from the table and straightened his gray sports coat, buttoning the bottom two buttons and then for the second time slapped John hard on the shoulder before downing the rest of his second beer. He set the empty bottle on the table next to the first and belched loud enough to start the dog next door to barking. Jake couldn’t help but laugh. Marty gave him a wink.

  He edged toward the front door then stopped, reaching into his pockets as if he was looking for something. After not seeming to find what he had been looking for, he looked over at John and said. “Say, uh, John. I really hate to ask, but is there any way you could loan me twenty bucks?”

  With a grunt, John leaned forward in his chair and pulled out a worn, brown leather wallet. He sifted through pictures of Jake and Julia, business cards, and several yellowed receipts before finding a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill. “That’s my last one, Marty,” he said, plopping it into his hand. "Don’t spend it all on beer.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me! Jake thought to himself.

  “Thanks, John!" Marty grinned from ear to ear. "I’ll pay you back soon as I get some work. Tell you what, in return you can have my last brew,” He pulled the last beer from the six-pack and set it in front of John. "You boys don’t party too hardy!” He said, walking toward the front door.

  “Have a good one, Marty!” John called after him. “Stay safe out there!”

  “Will do!” Marty replied, pulling the front door closed behind him.

  “Poor bastard,” John muttered under his breath, looking the warm beer over in his hands.

  Without needing to be told, Jake walked back to the front door and locked the deadbolts then walked back to the kitchen and sat down in front of his now cold TV dinner. Bits of Marty’s ashes had fallen into his gravy. Anger swelled in his chest. He couldn’t believe what his dad had just done. They could have used that twenty dollars for groceries. “Dad?” he asked anger building in his voice.

  “Yeah, son?” John replied, not looking up from his still unopened beer. Setting it aside, he soaked up the last of the gravy on his plate with a piece of white bread, then plopped it into his mouth.

  “Dad, why did you give Mr. White that money?”

  John chewed thoughtfully then swallowed. “Because he needed it,” He answered, dropping his fork to his now empty plate.

  He needed it?! What about us? “Dad, he’s a bum! A drunk! He’s probably just going to blow it all on beer! We could have used that money!”

  John met Jake's gaze, his eyes showing the tiniest bit of disappointment. “Jake, son, just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean there aren’t people out there that are even worse off."

  "Yeah but, Dad! Twenty dollars could have bought a lot of groceries!"

  John smiled. "Son, we're not gonna starve anytime soon."

  "Still though,” Jake replied. "We need that money a heck of a lot more than he does!"

  "You're sure about that?" John asked looking his son over with an appraising glance.

  "Well, yeah . . .” Jake nodded dumbly. "You see Marty and all you see a 'bum'. A 'drunk.' Is that right?"

  Again, Jake nodded.

  "Did you know that two weeks ago his wife took their three kids and skipped town?”

  “No . . . I uh, I didn’t know that,” Jake stammered.

  “Did you know when we first moved to Midland it was Marty that got me my first job working the rigs?”

  “No . . . but . . .” Jake said, a tiny bit of shame creeping into his voice.

  John took a swig from his iced tea. “Yep. I didn’t even know the guy’s name yet. Just met him in a bar one night and we struck up a conversation. He told me that GT Drilling was hiring. Without even knowing me, he got me a job the very next day. Said he liked the way I looked,” John chuckled.

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  “But, Jake, that’s not why I helped him,” John leaned back in his chair, a toothpick between his teeth. "Sometimes people just need an act of kindness to help them get through the day. This world is a hard place to live in and there’s a lot more to it than money, son. You can always make more money. But a good friend, someone that will watch your back when things get bad," he grew quiet for several long seconds, his eyes wandering across the room. He cleared his throat then continued. "That will get you a job when your family needs to eat, that will loan you twenty bucks when you need to get drunk. Someone like that . . . well, a friend like that is worth all the money in the world.”

  Jake had been so wrapped up in his own family's problems that he hadn’t considered that maybe somewhere, someone else was even worse off. Someone like Marty White. He felt a sharp pang of guilt for the things he'd said about him.

  "You done, buddy?"  John asked, starting to clear the table.

  "Yeah I'm done," Jake said, eying the cigarette ashes swimming in his thin brown gravy. Man, poor Mr. White, he thought back, remembering the many barbecues they’d had when Marty had brought his family over. His oldest daughter had always had a crush on Jake. So he'd spent many of those afternoons being chased by her, I wonder what happened to her?

  Sweat dripped down into the corner of his eye burning him terribl
y. He wiped at it with his hand. I bet wherever she's at they have air conditioning! He thought angrily.

  "Dad?"  Jake asked wiping his sweaty brow with his napkin, making sure another drop didn't blind him completely.

  "Yeah, bud?” John asked sitting back down in his black metal folding chair. “What's up?"

  He hated to ask but he just couldn’t help it. Sure Marty White may have been in a worse situation, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still hot in the house. "Dad . . . when is the air conditioner going to get fixed?"

  John let out a loud sigh.  "I don't know, Jake."

  He instantly felt guilty for asking. "It's just so hot!  You'd think once the sun started to set it would cool off some, but it hasn’t at all!" His explanation turned into one long rant. “Sorry.” he said, lowering his eyes.

  "No it’s okay,” John nodded, giving his son a comforting smile. "Yeah, I know what you mean.  It's been very hot this year.  Too stinking hot. The AC couldn’t have picked a worse time to go out."

  "I wish we could just move back into our old house,” Jake laid his head on his crossed arm. “I really miss that place.”

  "Well we can't,” John said, his face growing serious. "For now this is the best we can do."

  Jake sat there quietly, not wanting to harp on the issue any further. His dad had enough on his mind.  Getting up from the table, he walked over and gave him a hug.  "It's alright, Dad.  I know you're doing your best."

  John’s shoulders relaxed and he ruffled Jake’s shaggy brown hair.  "You're a good boy, Jake."

  "Thanks, Dad,” he smiled.

  "Alright, kiddo.  Go brush your teeth, take a bath, and get ready for bed."

  "Oh come on, Dad, it's Thursday!” Jake said, playfully shaking his dad’s shoulders.  “You know what comes on tonight?" He had to play this just right or he would miss the best show to come on all week.

  John laughed. "You know I can't let you watch that.  Your mom will kill me if she finds out.  Besides, last time you had nightmares for three nights in a row."

  "I only had nightmares that one night!" Jake defended himself. That wasn’t entirely true. He had nightmares for a week after watching it, but his dad didn’t need to know that.  "Besides, who says Mom has to know," he said with a sly grin.

  John rose out of his chair and picked Jake up one handed, throwing him over his shoulder. “Ahhh!” Jake cried out in mock terror. “Dad! I’m too old for that!” He laughed.

  “You’re never too old to get picked up by your old man!” John carried him through the house and tossed him to his bed.

  “So can we watch it?” Jake begged, rolling off the bed and bouncing to his feet.

  John chuckled. "Alright, pal.  Go wash up and brush your teeth and we'll watch it.  Better hurry though."  He said, looking down at his watch.  "You've got about twelve minutes till it starts."

  Jake sped past his dad at Mach speed, taking the fastest bath of his life then dressed in his pajamas. Lathering up his toothbrush with a generous portion of toothpaste, he scrubbed his teeth rigorously. He landed on the couch just as the show was starting.  The ceiling fan rattled loudly above. John was fiddling with the rabbit ears on top of their little thirteen-inch television.

  “Right . . . no . . . right, right there! Right there!” Jake yelled as the picture finally cleared up.

  "Aha! Just in time!"  John dropped down on the couch wrapping his arm over his son’s shoulders.

  The deep, spooky voice of the show’s host came on followed by an eerie music sequence: Tonight on, That's Unbelievable! We'll travel to Oregon where we will meet a family of real life vampires that claim to live off the blood of animals!  A clip of several teenagers with slicked back hair and long fanged teeth came on.  One of them snarled at the camera eliciting a deep booming laugh from John.

  "Shhh!"  Jake yelled at him, wondering what was so funny.

  "I'm sorry, Jake."  He said, wiping tears from his eyes.  "It just amazes me what people will do for attention.  Vampires feeding off animals!  That's a first!"

  "Shhh!" Jake scolded again.

  Then we'll take you on a trip to Southern Georgia and introduce you to a man that claims he's caught footage of the legendary Bigfoot!  A shaky video clip with something big and black moving through the trees came on the screen followed by a man with a long black beard in ripped overalls.  I seen him!  He was covered from head to toe in long black hair!

  "Looks like a guy in a monkey suit,” John said.

  "Shhh!"  Jake said, slapping his dad’s knee.

  Finally, we'll introduce you to a man that claims the federal government is in league with alien invaders hell bent on dominating the entire human race through alien abductions!  A clip of a blacked out man with his voice altered came on.  They want to harvest us for our organs.  And the government is in on it!

  “I should have known!” John joked. “It’s always the aliens!”

  All of this and more on tonight's episode of That's Unbelievable!

  "You got that right,” John laughed.  "That's definitely unbelievable!"

  For the next hour, they sat on the couch watching strange tales from around the country. John seemed to get a big kick out of the vampire story. He laughed hysterically through almost the entire thing.

  It was the alien abduction story that spooked Jake the most.  He watched the reenacted alien abduction scene wishing the living room wasn't quite so dark. When the end credits began to roll, he was downright scared.  His eyes kept glancing down the darkened hallway, half-expecting to see a gray alien with red eyes staring back at him. He shivered at the very thought.

  "Time for bed, buddy,” John said, causing him to jump off the couch cushions. John gave him funny look. "I knew I shouldn't have let you watch that,” he said, shaking his head. “Now I’ll be up half the night with you thinking there are monsters hiding in your closet.”

  Jake did his best to put on a brave face.  "It's okay, Dad.  Really."

  "Uh huh,” John said, skeptically.

  "You know I don't believe in things like that anymore!"

  "Uh huh,” John said again.  "Anyway, tough guy, it's time for bed.  It's way past your bed time."

  "But Dad how am I supposed to sleep when it's still a thousand degrees in here?"   Jake asked, wiping his sweaty brow with the front of his black pajama shirt.

  "Well hopefully we'll get some rain in the next few days,” John walked him to his room and tucked him under the sheets.  "Now go to sleep."

  "Okay, Dad.  Goodnight." Jake said yawning. John started to pull the door closed. "Hey, Dad?" Jake asked.

  John let out an exasperated sigh.  "Yes, Jake?"

  "Are there really such things as monsters?  I mean, I know there's not.  Right?"

  John hesitated for a few seconds before smiling a tiny half smile and saying, “Monsters?” Of course not, son.  It's just a silly, really bad TV show."

  “It’s not that bad!” Jake said, and then let out a deep exaggerated yawn.

  "I love you, kid," John said, flipping off the light and shutting the door.

  "Love you too, Dad!"  Jake yelled after him. He waited until he heard his dad's footsteps descend down the hall and the TV in the living room turn back on, before jumping out of bed and opening his closet door. Pulling the cord for the light, he dug through his toys and clothes as quietly as he could until finding what he was looking for.

  “Ah, there you are!” He picked up his aluminum little league bat. Holding it tight in both hands, he looked up at it as if he were King Arthur looking over Excalibur. Then as if the devil himself was on his trail, he ran back to bed and leapt under the covers, clutching the bat tightly to his chest.

  Though he was exhausted, he tossed and turned for almost an hour. It was just too hot to sleep, but he didn’t dare kick the covers off for fear that some alien might grab him up by his feet
and haul him off to some alien world where they’d hunt him for sport. The unmoving ceiling fan once again taunted him. His eyes couldn't help but wander to the once again locked window.

  Sacrificing safety for a few brief seconds, Jake got up the courage and opened his window.  He winced as it squeaked loudly.  If John caught him, doing this, aliens would be the least of his worries. However, his immediate concerns were of dying of a heat stroke, while not very likely, it was still a possibility. Behind alien abductions of course. Nevertheless, a closed window wouldn’t keep a technologically superior race out anyway. That’s Unbelievable! had made that abundantly clear.

  The cool breeze that streamed through the window made the risk well worth it. He climbed back into bed and after a few minutes fell asleep.

  Around two am a loud screeching sound woke him from his slumber.  He instantly grasped for the bat, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. Looking around the room, he tried to figure out where the sound had come from.  Sitting up in bed, while still clutching his covers, he glanced around the room. He didn't see anything out of place but something definitely wasn't right. He just felt it.

  Nervously he laid back down forcing himself to relax. He couldn't believe he was even considering it, but maybe it was a good idea that he didn’t watch That’s Unbelievable! again. It was probably just his overactive imagination. Just as he was about to fall back asleep he heard something that was definitely out of place. A deep, raspy breathing.  It was not his imagination. Something was in his room.

  Chapter 2

  Jake

  The "Griffin" Home, Midland, TX.

  July 31, 1994 1:20am