Bonus Scenes – Weekend at Bigfoot’s

Originally posted in my March, 2020 newsletter.

Told from Oliver’s 3rd-person POV, and written using these words pulled from a random word generator (https://wordcounter.net/random-word-generator): match – vex – catch – fat – crave – delay – zesty – vigorous – mouth – ubiquitous

It’s mildly spoilery, but I wouldn’t worry about it. The blurb pretty much tells you (or at least very strongly hints) that Wilson will come across Oliver in Bigfoot form, and this scene takes place after that discovery. The story’s fun is in the journey getting there.

If anyone had told Oliver yesterday that today he’d be giving a piggyback ride—biggieback ride?—to Wilson, the sexy tabloid reporter he’d fallen for against all attempts to listen to the commonsense corner of his brain—not to mention his sister—he would have snorted an unbecoming, untwink-like laugh right in their foolish face. Hair glitter would’ve scattered from the sudden spasm of his head. Yet here he was with Wilson’s arms wrapped around his neck, and legs around his waist, traipsing through the woods surrounding one of the family’s remote cabins.

To say the leadership council in his ubiquitous extended family would be vexed by this turn of events was putting their expected reaction mildly, because who the hell knew what kind of headline the tabloid would dream up if Wilson went back on his word. But he wouldn’t; Oliver felt that to the center of his fat, furry soul.

“What about werewolves? Are those real, too?” Wilson’s voice was tinged with a twelve-year-old boy’s excitement.

Oliver spied a miner’s lettuce patch, gave a non-committal shrug, and came to a halt. Wilson’s inner twelve-year-old needed to chill until Oliver was capable of forming actual words again. Not to mention was less susceptible to the barely-controllable cravings that came with his shift into Bigfoot form.

Wilson hopped off and Oliver tore up clumps of the greenery and stuffed them into his mouth.

“How about vampires?”

Oliver affected a shiver.

“What’s that? A ‘you hope not’ or a ‘you’ve encountered them and they’re scary bastards’?”

Oliver tipped his head and heaved a sigh.

“Right…one question at a time. Was that a ‘you hope not’?”

Oliver gave a firm nod. Who knew for sure? Most people would scoff at the idea of Bigfoot existing, yet here he was. Just because no one he personally knew and trusted had ever encountered them, didn’t mean vampires and other shifters didn’t also exist.

“How much werewolf lore applies to Bigfoots? Is it all hereditary or can you bite someone and turn them?”

Again, Oliver tipped his head to the side and sighed.

“Sorry. Is it all hereditary?”

Oliver nodded, then some of the lettuce leaves still on the ground twitched. There was no delay in his instinctive reaction as he plucked up the small toad—whose camouflage green didn’t quite match the vegetation it was hunkering down under—and popped it into his mouth.

Dammit.

No catch and release for any hapless little critter that didn’t have the good sense to stay out of a Bigfoot’s sight. He narrowed his eyes and gave a vigorous chew as Wilson covered his mouth but manfully managed not to gag. Oliver kept his mouth closed and suppressed the sarcastic impulse to say, “Mmm, zesty,” because there was no call for rudeness and it would’ve just come out as a Chewbacca-like wail anyway.

Wilson’s face wasn’t quite as green as the leaves surrounding him. “Right. Not judging. Sorry.”

Sure. It was nice of Wilson to say, but would he really be able to keep himself from judging?

Oliver swallowed, winced—out of worry rather than from the toad’s taste—grumbled, and stood. He looked to the west. The sun was getting lower in the sky. He cocked his head in the direction of the cabin.

“We should get back?”

Oliver nodded, and oddly enough, he was disappointed that his time in Bigfoot form was coming to an end. Would Wilson still be with him for the next one?

Originally posted on the JMS Books blog July 12, 2020 in celebration of JMS’s ten-year anniversary.

The traditional ten-year anniversary gift is tin or aluminum, representing durability and flexibility. Unlike JMS Books, which was celebrating its ten-year anniversary (woot, woot!!!), Wilson Banks and Oliver Hughes from Weekend at Bigfoot’s have been together for only one year in this bonus scene, but I made a point of working in forms of those four ten-year words (tin, aluminum, durability, flexibility) as prompts, because as anyone who follows my blog/website and/or receives my newsletter knows, I love writing bonus scenes and flash fiction using random prompt words!

Told from Wilson’s 3rd-person POV, and written using the words tin – aluminum – durability – flexibility

Wilson

Oliver raised a well-groomed eyebrow, and Wilson returned the gesture with an added waggle. The bonus twitch to one side of Oliver’s captivating lips narrowed down the possible meanings behind that cocked brow to ones at the positive side of the mood spectrum.

“What?” Wilson pressed a hand to his knee to stop his bouncing foot, then gave up and stood again, because his exuberant mood could not be willed away.

Oliver snorted. “You’ve been ricocheting off the walls all morning like a cat trapped in a closet.”

A slight exaggeration, perhaps, but not entirely wrong. “Maybe someday it’ll feel like just another day, but I’m not there yet.” Wilson flashed a grin as he paced laps around the cabin’s main room. “And you, my dear, are way too put-together for dark-o’clock in the morning.”

“I like to feel normal, right up until I’m … not.” Oliver sniffed. “Besides, some of the glitter sticks through the shift. I kinda like knowing it’s there.”

“Right?” Wilson had noticed flecks of it on Oliver’s Bigfoot form last year. “I mean, I know people joke about how you can never get rid of that stuff, but seriously, its durability factor is sky high sticking through that wind. What’s it made of, anyway?”

“I think it’s a combination of plastic and aluminum.”

Oliver spread his legs and stretched upward before bending forward and placing his palms flat on the ground, demonstrating a degree of flexibility that took Wilson’s breath away despite having a year’s experience with that lithe, energetic body. And more importantly, with the good-humored, intelligent mind atop that body.

“How much time?” Wilson pulled out his phone and checked the screen for about the dozenth time since they’d woken that morning. They’d spent the night in the cabin.

“Chill.” Oliver’s grin took the edge off his admonition. Even his eye roll when his gaze passed over the cases of tinned fruit cocktail, which Wilson had insisted on bringing as backup to Oliver’s cooler o’ fresh food, conveyed appreciation of Wilson’s concern rather than derision.

“No, really.” Wilson looked out the cabin door. The sun would be rising in less than ten minutes. “Shouldn’t you be getting naked or something?”

When Wilson turned around, Oliver was already half-stripped.

“This isn’t my first time, you know.” Oliver kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.

Wilson crossed the room and pulled Oliver into his arms. “Happy Birthday, love.” He planted a brief kiss on Oliver’s forehead. “And Happy Anniversary.”

Technically, the anniversary of the day they’d met, which was also the anniversary of their first date, had been a couple days earlier, but this was the anniversary of the day Wilson had decided to actively pursue Oliver in hopes of turning a weekend fling into something more, and it was the anniversary of the day he’d learned Oliver’s secret.

Oliver didn’t call him on that technicality. Instead he pulled Wilson’s lips down to his and murmured, “Love you,” into his kiss.

When they came up for air, Oliver snapped into action. He opened the closet door and looked meaningfully at Wilson. “Gear up, babe.”

Wilson saluted. He remembered the precautions he needed to take during Oliver’s shift, of course, but Oliver’s mother-hen act warmed him, anyway. “Love you, too.”

Oliver gave a jaunty wink and with an exaggerated sashay, he waltzed his naked self out the cabin door.

Wilson stared after him for a few beats, then murmured, “See you again in a few,” before closing and bolting the door.

Originally posted in my April, 2021 newsletter:

The first part of this scene is told from Wilson’s (from Weekend at Bigfoot’s) 3rd-person POV, and the second part of this scene is told from Neil’s (from The Recruit & The Choice) 3rd-person POV. Written using these reader-supplied words:

pillow – new socks – candle – keys – book – obelisk – honesty – lightening – mountains – fountain – glass cat – pine needles – vampire – refrigerator – mud

Wilson

Oliver turned his gaze from the obelisk in New Orleans’ Chalmette National Historical Park and cocked his head at Wilson. “You seem tense.”

Wilson sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I just…” But what could he say that wouldn’t sound paranoid? “It’s nothing.”

One perfectly groomed eyebrow quirked skyward. Oliver said only one word. “Oh?” But the glint in his eye added, “Honesty is the best policy.” Which was something they’d had a whole discussion about before moving in together.

“Well, you know…” Wilson shuffled his feet then glanced around to make sure nobody was within hearing distance. “It’s just that I’ll never be able to approach my articles with the same I-know-this-is-utter-bullshit-but-I’ll-write-an-interesting-and-respectful-story attitude I had before meeting you and your…uh…people in Tallbear.”

For all he knew, he might’ve spoken to Yeti shifters, too, when the tabloid he wrote for, Sensational News (Never Fake, We Swear!), sent him to the Himalayas last year to research an article. This week the features editor, Jerry, had sent him here to New Orleans to come up with a story on vampires. His boyfriend/partner, Oliver, freelanced so he’d tagged along so they could do touristy things during Wilson’s downtime.

“Ah.” Oliver smirked, but it didn’t mask his involuntary shiver. “Yeah, before you asked about it last year, I hadn’t thought too much about the possibility since we’d never heard of other kinds of shifters, let alone different paranormal creatures, but good point. Bigfoots exist, so why not vampires?”

“On the plus side, if they do exist—and that’s a big if—they’re not like vamps in books and movies. It’s not as if there are a lot of unexplained blood-drained bodies showing up, so I don’t think they pose a danger to humans. If anything, much of the lore is crap, and they’re secretive but have otherwise assimilated into our society.”

“And yet you’re still tense.” Oliver flipped back a few strands of his well-glittered hair that’d fallen across his eyes. “Did you find something?”

“Not really.” Wilson shugged. “I just got to thinking about which bits of lore would have to be true—like consuming blood—since that pretty much defines what vampires are. Probably also the immortality thing, otherwise if vampirism is some affliction people could randomly catch like a virus, and there weren’t organized immortals taking people in when they caught it, or were deliberately turned, or whatever, then vampires would be commonly known.”

“Makes sense.”

“So I figured, if—IF—they exist, they’re organized. At least these days. And other bits of random lore may or may not have come about from possible misinterpretations of behavior in olden times.”

“Still makes sense.” Oliver nodded. “So what’s making you so antsy like you’re ready to jump out of your soggy new socks?”

Wilson grinned. Oliver was referencing an incident from their earlier visit to the Mardi Gras Fountain. Long story short, they’d fallen victim to an impromptu water fight between some kids, Wilson’s new pride-themed socks had gotten soaked, then after he’d wrung them out, he’d accidentally stepped in some loose dirt before putting his shoes back on.

“More like muddy new socks.” Wilson winked. “But no, I didn’t actually find anything. I also figured they probably weren’t holding a bunch of people captive, feeding them and feeding off them. Over time, they’d surely be discovered. If they exist, they’re probably hiding in plain sight like you Bigfoots.”

“Nice. I could get behind the existence of benevolent vamps.”

“So yesterday, I visited blood banks to interview people about their processes. Because they’d still need blood, right, or they wouldn’t be vampires?”

“Right. But you didn’t find anything suspicious?”

“No. But, I didn’t really expect to. Even if it’s true that vampires exist and they’ve infiltrated blood banks, nothing would be obviously out of whack.”

“So?”

“So I’ve had a weird feeling like I’m being watched since then.”

“Ah.”

“I know. I’m being stupid and paranoid for no good reason because I’m not even going to pursue the potential reality of vampires for my article because outing any paranormal creatures pretty much opens up the potential for outing them all, and I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, my interviews with the people claiming to have been bitten will make a more interesting article.”

A corner of Oliver’s mouth twitched up as if maybe he’d picked up on how Wilson had pointedly made that little speech for the benefit of any potentially listening vampires. But he didn’t address that, and instead asked, “So there are people who’ve been bitten?”

“Not by real vampires. That was easily debunked. Jerry probably won’t let me point that out in the article, though, since people who’ve been embarrassed in our stories are more likely to sue. They wouldn’t win, but it would still cost money.”

Oliver snickered. “It’s not as if sensible people reads those articles and walk away believing them.”

“Exactly.” Wilson patted his pocket, jingling the rental car keys, and suggestively flashed his eyebrows. “How about we go back to the hotel, light one of those scented candles they have in the room, and see how much of your hair glitter we can get embedded in the pillow cases?”

* * * * *

Neil

The eastern sky was lightening as the early morning sun rose, and a glass cat figurine on the window ledge cast an eerie shadow across Neil and Albert’s shiny new Paris apartment. Well, it was new to them, although the Paris faction had owned the lovely old building under one business entity or another for more than a century.

They weren’t technically members of the Paris faction, but since Albert was now on the global council, which was based there, and Neil functioned as Albert’s assistant until he mastered the French language and could contribute more meaningfully, the Paris faction had responsibility for their lodging and future identity changes.

Neil closed the refrigerator door and handed a bag of blood to Albert. He shivered and smiled as Albert’s fangs descended with a click, then frowned when Albert’s phone rang, interrupting their morning ritual.

Albert retracted his fangs and glanced at the phone’s screen. He answered with a cheery, “Hello, how are you?”

As a relatively new vamp, Neil’s hearing was nowhere near the caliber of a more-than-two-thousand-year-old vamp like Albert, but it was still better than it had been as a human. So he couldn’t help but overhear the other side of the conversation, too.

“Good morning,” the caller said, equally upbeat, but with a serious undertone. “I wanted to draw your attention to an email I just sent you. You might want to examine it before today’s meeting.”

Short and to the point. Abbreviated and unspecific since phone calls were the least secure method of communication. But reading between the lines, Neil knew the email was encrypted and would be virtually shredded immediately after reading. Both actions were done with highly secure vampire proprietary software. The referenced meeting was the daily council meeting Albert would attend later that morning.

“Thank you. I’ll do that.” Albert clicked off and placed the phone back on the table. He retrieved his laptop, briefly and securely connected to the Internet, downloaded his email, then disconnected.

Neil stood aside as Albert decrypted and opened the email. As Albert’s assistant, Neil was instantly privy to most council business. With their gradually increasing super hearing, the vamps didn’t bother even trying to keep most of their business private. Not from each other. Information would have to be incredibly sensitive to be discussed only within the council’s secure chambers, and even then, it usually only meant a delay.

The vast majority of the worldwide vampire population were, at a minimum, decades old. Most could count their age in centuries. A few in millennia. Among the very few (if any) annual additions, if a candidate wasn’t judged to have a trustworthy character, they weren’t given the offer to join the ranks of the immortal vampires.

A slow grin spread across Albert’s face as he read. When he was done, he destroyed the email before turning to Neil.

“Your face,” Neil said. “You look like the proverbial kid in a candy shop.”

Albert chuckled. “You’ll never guess.”

Neil bounced on his toes and turned on his best imitation of puppy dog eyes. “Please just tell me. I don’t know. Anybody I can think of that y’all might’ve turned would be eliminated due to their fame.”

Albert’s smile widened. “The email wasn’t about a new recruit.”

Neil’s blood might run black now, but his heart still pumped, and it was racing in anticipation. “Have I mentioned that you’re a big tease?”

“Bigfoot shifters exist.”

Neil’s jaw dropped at the same time something clattered onto the floor in the apartment above them. Nothing could be said aloud in vamp apartment buildings without everyone knowing it.

Albert laughed and looked up. “Like that, Pierre?” Another snicker because Albert could hear what Neil couldn’t. Yet. “Nope, that wasn’t for your benefit.” And after another short pause, he added, “Cross my heart,” then turned back to Neil.

“Seriously?” Neil’s wide eyes no doubt broadcasted his own doubt.

“Why not? Is it so far fetched considering you now know vampires exist?”

“Other than the fact that vamps have existed for millennia and have apparently never encountered them before?”

“Ah, there is that. My theory, amor meus, is that we might’ve crossed paths in the old days before there was easy global communication, and anyone who knew has died out. Nowadays, vamps live only in large cities, and Bigfoot shifters reside in rural areas. Very rural, as in mountains, giant sequoias, cabins, and forests with thick layers of pine needles. They actually live mostly as humans in nearby towns, but hide out in the sticks when they’re due to shift.”

“Wow. Today’s council meeting is going to be far less routine that usual.” Neil grinned ear to ear as Albert picked the bag of blood back up.

“Definitely.” Albert waggled his eyebrows. “And we may never know, but I’d be curious to know what would happen if a shifter were turned by a vamp. Would they continue to shift? Would they be stuck in either human or shifted mode?”

“I wonder if combo creatures exist, sheltered and hidden by the shifter communities?”

All food for thought, but Neil’s brain short circuited when Albert’s fangs snicked out. He’d think about the Bigfoots later. Much later.

Birthday Panic! (part 1)

PROMPT WORDS USED:
disastrous ~ abject ~ useless ~ soft ~ cow ~ nebulous ~ mature ~ brainy ~ faded ~ tearful

Wilson Banks stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground as Oliver Hughes paced with increasing urgency. The asphalt where they were standing at the far back corner of the Bangor, Maine Walmart Supercenter’s parking lot wasn’t truly interesting enough to merit such focused attention.

He felt as useless as the nearby empty cart corrals as his mind vacillated between calculating the least-likely-to-be-disastrous solution to their predicament and desperately trying not to splatter vomit across that already grungy surface. That would help neither their situation nor the mood of any poor sap who might step in it. Might help the roiling in his gut, though.

“To say that Lena will have a cow is putting it mildly,” Oliver muttered. “Not that I’m likely to get back to Tallbear to see it.”

Wilson winced. Oliver’s sister had had enough to say when Oliver had made the decision to move to Chicago to live with Wilson. She’d predicted all manner of doom and gloom befalling the Bigfoot community if Oliver ever failed to make it back to Tallbear in plenty of time for his annual shift. Doom and gloom that might very well come to fruition, so she had a fair ‘I told you so’ due.

“I’m sorry.” Wilson bit his lip and finally looked up to meet Oliver’s gaze.

“Not like it’s your fault.” Oliver lifted his hands with dramatic flair. “I never should have cut the travel timing so close.”

To be fair, there’d been a reasonable amount of cushion in their scheduling. Not the full week or two they would typically allow—that had always seemed like overkill—but several days of leeway.

Who could have predicted that a terrorist would plant a bomb at the airport they’d been scheduled to fly out of? Or that it would effectively take out both the power grid and the backup generators? Best case scenario, the airport in question would reopen in a few more days, but in the meantime, all flights in or out of that airport were cancelled.

Of course, all the nearest airports were flooded with people rescheduling their flights. Oliver and Wilson had been bumped from three different overbooked flights in the past couple days. The most recent, which they’d been assured they would be on, had dumped them two hours ago. That had been their last hope for a flight back to Northern California.

“Shouldn’t have trusted them. Should’ve have just spent a day driving to our contacts in the Cumberland Mountains community.” Oliver looked at his watch and shook his head. His usual meticulous grooming had taken a back seat to stress eating and working the problem—or trying to—but quite a bit of hair glitter remained to twinkle as his hair flopped back and forth. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! There’s not nearly enough time left now.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “If I get out of this unscathed, please, please don’t ever let me talk you into letting me tag along on another of your assignments this close to my birthday no matter how appealing it looks.”

“You will get out of this unscathed. We can head back up toward Pocomoonshine Lake. There’s a decent amount of forest there.”

“It’s probably the best bet, yeah.” If Oliver’s hangdog expression was any indicator, he didn’t have any confidence in that plan’s success. “And sure, it is kinda remote, but it doesn’t feel as isolated as the sequoia forests around Tallbear. More importantly, we don’t know the area. Don’t know where people might have cabins or be camping.”

“We’ve got all night. We’ll find something.” But in his heart, Wilson knew Oliver was right.

It wasn’t like they had either the time or ability to cover everything within a mile or so radius of some random seemingly-private spot. Oliver’s dramatic shift might draw unwanted attention to their presence, and there’d be nowhere to hide if anyone decided to investigate.

They both took a quick glance to the side where a mature man wearing faded jeans was ambling in their general direction. Presumably a Walmart employee, since that was who would park this far back in the lot, and there were a couple dozen vehicles scattered back here. And indeed the man—probably not quite old enough to be one of the store greeters—was angling toward a vehicle at the end of the row.

Wilson didn’t consider himself to be particularly brainy under pressure, but the nebulous idea that had brought them to this Walmart parking lot in the first place began fleshing out in his mind. A panel van might be the safety net they needed. They could rent one, then after Oliver’s shift, he could spend the day hiding in the back of that rather than wandering an unfamiliar forest.

They could go into the Walmart as they’d already planned, buy a huge cooler or two and enough fresh fruits and veggies to fill them, then go rent that van. Surely they could find somewhere remote enough before dawn for Oliver’s shift.

Oliver took Wilson’s hands in his as he whispered, “You know you’re going to have to abandon me in the woods, right?” His breath hitched, and his wobbly voice bordered on tearful. “We don’t have a breathing apparatus for you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Wilson and Oliver both jumped. That had come from the Walmart employee who was now veering toward them. His voice was warm and soft, yet his words were clear.

He seemed innocuous and friendly, yet something was off, because why? How had he heard Oliver’s whisper? Why would he think he knew what they were talking about, and why would he think whatever misconception he’d deduced was any of his business?

At best the guy was merely a busybody, but the possibility he was a serial killer felt further north of zero than the average encounter. Wilson’s stranger-danger meter pinged like a dagger to his heart.

Grasping Oliver’s hand, Wilson turned to scramble into their rental car, but in the very next instant, he found himself sitting in a moving vehicle—an RV?—buckled onto a sofa. blinking himself back to consciousness. Opposite him, buckled into an arm chair, sat the man who clearly was not a Walmart employee, smiling pleasantly.

Abject fear tore through Wilson’s mind, and his stomach clenched as if an icy fist were twisting his innards. “Oliver!” He turned his head quickly scanning his surroundings. There were four more men and women in the back of the RV with them, and two more in the driver and front passenger seats. Oliver was buckled beside him blinking like he, too, was coming back to awareness.

They were still holding hands. No…it was the opposite hand. Somehow that small thing—that they had been settled in a manner that might help ease their minds—helped. Not much, but he grasped that bit of hope like a lifeline.

Before either of them could say anything, the man spoke. “Rest assured, you are unharmed, and you will remain unharmed. We are here to help you out of the predicament you find yourself in.” His smile once again felt genuinely friendly as opposed to slick and cruel like one might expect upon waking up after an abduction. “Lena need never know how precarious your situation was.”

Wilson squeezed Oliver’s hand in a manner he hoped might be comforting, and Oliver returned the press. The man continued his monologue. “I sincerely regret the measures we had to take to contain the situation, but you were clearly about to bolt, yes?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well. Wilson’s mind was too busy whirling with questions to decide whether or not it would be best to ‘fess up to that.

“Of course you were. I don’t blame you. That’s the sane reaction. But it was mission critical that the scene appear—for the sake of the security cameras, you see—as if we were all meeting up there as per some prearranged plans before heading out together. And that’s exactly what any casual observers and/or security cameras will see.”

“But, why?” Oliver found his voice first, and his eyes narrowed. “How do you know about my sister, and what is it you think you know about me and my so-called predicament?”

“Think?” The man outright chuckled at that. “We know everything about you and your people. We were quite excited to learn about the existence of another variety of paranormal beings when you pinged our radar in New Orleans a couple years ago. We’ve made quite a study of your people since then while also—” he nodded at Wilson. “—making sure you don’t write anything too on-the-nose about my people.”

Oliver’s grip on Wilson’s hand tightened painfully. The only time Wilson had been to New Orleans in the past couple years was when he’d been chasing down quotes for a story he’d been assigned about vampires for Sensational News (Never Fake! We Swear!). Oliver had tagged along for that one, too.

Vampires.

Vampires!

Wilson swallowed. “You’re not…uh…” But really, knowing that Bigfoot shifters existed made the idea of vampires also existing less insane than he would have considered it to be before learning Oliver’s secret.

In reply to Wilson’s not-quite-a-question, the man smiled, and with a pair of loud snicks, extended then immediately retracted a set of lethal-looking incisors.

Before Wilson could react beyond further stiffening, the man said, “That wasn’t to frighten you. Again, we mean you no harm. It was more to wash away any lingering doubts and to establish some mutual trust. We know about you and your people, Oliver, and now you know about us.”

Oliver’s voice was little more than a squeak. “Why are you helping me?”

Birthday Panic! (part 2)

PROMPT WORDS USED:
short ~ creep ~ dead ~ lettuce ~ handsome
(I’ll use the remaining 5 words in the December continuation scene)

Oliver’s voice was little more than a squeak. “Why are you helping me?”

“And what,” added Wilson. “Precisely, is the plan?”

“Good questions.” The man who appeared to be the leader of this group of vampires sat back and tilted his head as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. “First the ‘why.’ If any group of paranormal beings were outed to humans, do either of you think that humans wouldn’t pull out all the stops to actively look for signs of others?”

“No,” Wilson said, and he and Oliver both shook their heads. “They sure wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. Trust me when I say this operation is a big fucking deal. Perhaps it would have been possible to simply monitor your own efforts and only step in if needed, but this was deemed to be the path least likely to result in any…complications that might make it trickier to maintain the secrecy we both require. Better to prevent those complications than to clean up after them.

“The decision to out ourselves to the two of you was voted on by our global council members and by every faction leader worldwide. Deliberately outing ourselves in this manner is unprecedented, but ultimately, we decided that you, Oliver, had as much to lose as we did if any paranormal beings were outed to humans, and you, Wilson, have proven your trustworthiness over the past few years and are likewise invested in maintaining the secrecy of paranormal beings.”

Good points. Wilson gave Oliver’s hand another gentle and hopefully reassuring squeeze.

“Now,” The man said. “Before we move on to the plan details, how about a round of introductions?”

The man spoke with the polite tone one might expect at a formal dinner party, and everything he’d said so far was done with a sincere undertone. Nothing creepy or sinister to set off alarm bells again.

In fact, the pragmatic side of Wilson that had once upon a time irked his ex-boyfriend because Wilson didn’t tend to show much emotion moved to the forefront. The vampires had the upper hand, seemed to genuinely want to help, and regardless, he and Oliver no way of escaping unless the vampires outright let them.

Wilson nodded and took a calming breath. “All right.” Introductions would be a step toward mitigating the vast information imbalance between them. “Obviously, you already know who we are.” In fine detail.

Oliver leveled some mild side-eye with a hint of curiosity in it at him, and a corner of his mouth twitched. They’d laughed over the years reminiscing about how calm Wilson had been when he’d first stumbled across Oliver in Bigfoot form, and the juxtaposition of that compared to the reactions of others in the handful of random Bigfoot sightings reported over the years.

Perhaps Wilson’s pragmatism was contagious, because a little of the stiffness in Oliver’s body relaxed, and he seconded Wilson’s response—albeit with a slight warble. “Yes, introductions would be great.”

The vampire returned their nods. “My name is Marvin. I’m the faction leader of the Boston-Worcester-Springfield Massachusetts collective. Quite the opposite of your people—” Marvin inclined his head toward Oliver. “—we’ve settled only in larger cities. Mostly in huge metropolises, but sometimes in groupings of closely situated less massive, but still large cities. Our faction was the closest, so we caught the assignment to keep an eye on you during your trip to Maine to put together a story on the Pocomoonshine Lake monster.” He winked at Wilson. “That doesn’t exist, by the way.”

Wilson snorted. “No, I didn’t think so. I’m more openminded to paranormal or supernatural possibilities than I once was, but that one is clearly explainable.”

Marvin pointed to each of the others in the camper and introduced them in turn—Luke was driving with Jessica in the passenger seat. The remaining four in the camper living area with them included Evan, who was on the short side and classically handsome. He stood closest to them and gave off an air of status. The remaining three were Josh, Scott, and Lauren, who were all nondescript in appearance.

There was nary a Lazarus or Lilith amongst them, but that made perfect sense since their apparent goal was to blend in with human society. Much like the Bigfoot community did.

“Evan is the leader of my security team.” Marvin gestured to the man in question. “Each of these fine folks here and those who are currently monitoring the location we’ve selected for our campsite are members of the security team.

“I assure you they are all very experienced and highly skilled and capable of handling any glitches to the plan that might arise.”

“I have a few concerns.” Oliver gnawed his lip, but his voice was steady. “One, anyone nearby when I shift needs a breathing apparatus such as scuba gear. And two, I eat a lot when I’m in my shifted form. We were about to go into that Walmart and fill up a couple coolers worth of fruit and veggies for me. And three, yeah, there’ll be trees, but tomorrow is supposed to be sunny. Won’t that cause you guys problems?”

“No worries, Oliver. We—or I should say members of our Portland-Seattle collective faction—have observed several shifts, so we’re aware of those needs. We have a scuba tank and mask stashed here in the camper for Wilson’s use. Nobody else who needs to breathe will be in the danger zone, and the burning-up-in-direct-sunlight thing is a myth. We’ll be fine.”

Nobody else who needs to breathe. Wilson and Oliver shared a wide-eyed glance.

Marvin continued as if he hadn’t just dropped a scary, we’re-kinda-dead-but-kinda-not bombshell on them. “And we’ve got three massive coolers on board filled with everything from heads of lettuce to carrots, corn on the cob, peppers, apples, oranges, bananas, etcetera, etcetera. You won’t go hungry. We’ve provided more than we’ve ever observed one of your people eating during a shift. And we’ve got oversized tarps to protect the camper during the shift itself.”

“Wow.” Wilson bobbed his head. He was equal parts impressed and horrified by their knowledge and competence. He shot another glance at Oliver, whose Adam’s apple was bobbing repeatedly. Oliver tended to swallow a lot when nervous.

Wilson had so many questions, like how did vampires manage to hide their existence when they were immortal? That might have been easy in centuries past, but in modern society with social security numbers, etcetera? For that matter, were they immortal? Had he been on the right track with his thoughts in New Orleans about a connection between vampires and blood banks? And how had they gotten himself and Oliver from that Walmart parking lot to this moving camper in the blink of an eye?

The answers to those questions would have to wait…assuming the vampires would be forthcoming at all. Oliver was his priority now. Wilson fully turned to Oliver and reached across so he could hold both hands.

He rubbed his thumbs along Oliver’s wrists. “I think we’re going to be okay, love. They need this to succeed as much as we do. They’re obviously uber-competent, and if they’d wanted to solve the problem by…uh…eliminating us, they never would have approached us in that parking lot full of security cameras. They’d have followed us to the boonies and done…well…whatever that plan would have been to us there. If we disappear now, the investigation will lead to them.”

One of the men—Scott—standing nearby snorted. “And we’d have missed out on a chance to observe a Bigfoot shift” He grinned and shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“Besides,” added Lauren. “We value human life.”

Josh bobbed his head. “Or Bigfoot life, as the case may be.”

“Point being,” Evan said. “’Eliminating’ people—particularly innocent people—to protect the secrecy of our existence is always a last resort. Can’t say it’s never happened. But we try very hard to avoid it.”

Oliver’s gaze bounced from one vampire to another as they spoke, then back to Wilson. “You’re right.” He gave a nervous laugh, but his body further untensed. “That makes sense.”

He turned back to Marvin to add, “I guess I have a general sense of your plan now—which kind of mirrors our own only with ramped up security…thank you for that—but I’d like to know the details of your plan.”

“Absolutely.” Marvin grinned broadly. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

Birthday Panic! (part 3)

PROMPT WORDS USED:
accidental ~ overtake ~ yielding ~ distance ~ join
I used the other 5 words in the part 2 continuation scene (under the accordion tag, above).

“Absolutely.” Marvin grinned broadly. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

The plan that Marvin proceeded to outline in detail did indeed mirror the vague plan Wilson and Oliver had worked out for themselves—assuming they were talking about a funhouse mirror.

Both plans included coolers full of food to sustain Oliver in his ravenous Bigfoot form. Thank goodness the vamps knew about that because Wilson would never forget what had happened to Oliver’s aunt. He was always careful to get more than enough food.

Both plans included a vehicle Oliver could hide in, except instead of a barren panel van he would essentially have had to huddle in for the entirety of what would’ve been a miserable birthday since they didn’t know what to expect privacy-wise in the area, they had this luxury camper and a wide net of security personnel who would be an effective early warning system if Oliver needed to go into hiding.

Wilson interjected with the occasional “Wow,” or “Impressive,” and Oliver sounded like he’d stifled a hysterical giggle at one point, but otherwise they were quiet as Marvin laid out the plan. Marvin didn’t bring it up, but the vampires could probably use whatever that mysterious power was that had zombified Wilson and Oliver, causing them to lose time as they’d been transported from that Walmart parking lot into the camper.

The security vamps who’d both cased a myriad of potential sites ahead of time and who were already forming an advanced perimeter around the chosen site were the most appreciated of all. Their “campsite” wasn’t as close to Pocomoonshine Lake as Wilson and Oliver had been considering but was every bit as isolated as they could hope for.

By the time Marvin finished, Oliver’s lips were twitching in the direction of a grin, and the tight knot in Wilson’s gut had relaxed. Wilson snaked an arm around Oliver’s waist and pulled him close. Oliver ramped up that starter grin to a full-wattage smile and rested his head on Wilson’s shoulder before returning his focus to Marvin.

“You know,” Oliver said. “Before Wilson came into my life, I avoided having others—even though they would have been other Bigfoot shifters—with me on my birthday. At least I avoided it once I was old enough for my parents to become more yielding on the subject.

“Even worse, the idea of being accidentally spotted by an outsider was…is…horrifying to me because the idea of being treated as a spectacle is awful on top of what it could mean for all my people if we were seriously outed.”

Oliver shook his head. “But this time? I’m just so damned overtaken by relief and thankfulness for all of you coming to my rescue that I don’t even care that I’ll be sharing the day with way more people than ever before. You can even get in line to join Wilson for his annual ‘biggie back ride’ if you want.”

Josh perked up at that, and who could blame him? Not Wilson. “Heck yeah. Sign me up.” He nodded at Marvin. “Assuming the boss allows it.”

Marvin snorted. “You’ll all be rotating on and off duty throughout the day. Up to you how you want to spend your down time.”

“Cool.” Scott nodded. “Count me in, too.”

“And me.” Lauren’s smile was almost as bright as Oliver’s.

“Any questions?” Marvin inclined his head toward Wilson and Oliver as they turned onto a dirt road. “We’re getting close to the site.”

“Already?” Oliver said. “How long were we knocked out?”

“More than an hour. Sorry about that, but there’ll be no lasting effects, and it felt best to get well out of Bangor before letting you waken.”

Fair point. They probably should have realized that since they’d been driving on a secondary highway in a very rural area since awakening, but they’d had other things on their minds.

Between that stretch of unconsciousness and Marvin’s talk, they’d closed the distance to their destination in seemingly no time at all. Which should probably be alarming, but with only a few hours to go until sunrise, it was more of a relief.

“Okay.” Oliver shrugged. “I don’t have any questions other than to ask if you guys are going to play fair.”

Marvin quirked an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re going to get the full Bigfoot experience. Are you going to demonstrate some of your special vampire abilities for us?”

Which was exactly what Wilson had been wondering, too.

Marvin and Evan exchanged amused grins. Apparently, they’d covered all this in advance, because Evan replied without further consulting Marvin. “You’ll probably be surprised to learn that much of the lore is utter bullshit. We already mentioned that sunlight won’t affect us. Also, we don’t magically shift into bats, we don’t fly, and we don’t zip around at supersonic speeds.”

Oliver snickered. “What do you do?”

“Our senses of smell and hearing improve greatly as we age, topping out at around one thousand years. Eyesight is perfect, but otherwise normal. No microscopic or telescopic vision. Our memories from the time of turning are perfect.

“As noted earlier, we don’t have to breathe—we choose to cultivate a deeply ingrained habit of breathing when we are awake so as not to set off alarm bells when we are out in public, to take advantage of the benefits of that boosted sense of smell, and because we couldn’t talk without the airflow over our larynxes.

“We are immortal in that we won’t die of natural causes. The older we get, the better our self-healing properties, making us more difficult to kill. But we can be killed by anything that would kill you and that our self-healing can’t overcome quickly enough. Everything else is technology. Between being immortal and having perfect recall, it’s amazing what can be accomplished.”

Wilson straightened and blinked at Evan. “You mean the zombie ray is tech? Not some kind of mind meld superpower?”

“Correct.”

“Huh,” Oliver said. “I can’t decide if that’s more or less terrifying.”

“How about blood?” Wilson asked. “Was I on the right track in New Orleans?”

“You were.” Evan nodded. “We do require blood and cannot consume anything else without uncomfortable consequences. But in the years since your investigation, we’ve learned how to cultivate the blood ourselves, so we’re slowly phasing our people out of the blood bank and waste-blood disposal industries.”

Wilson was going to ask about how immortals got by in the modern world with the birth certificates and social security numbers needed to get by in life, but Marvin cocked his head like he was listening to something, and said, “We’re inside our security perimeter and about to turn off this dirt road.”

With that, Luke slowed the camper and turned off where there was a wide gap in the trees onto a path that looked like it had maybe once been driven over, but was overgrown to the point that it was obviously not currently being used for vehicles.

Marvin said, “There’s nobody currently within ten miles of this spot. There’s a small camper parked about five miles away, but our best guess is it’s for occasional use by hunters, and it’s currently out of season.”

“Sounds good,” Oliver said.

Wilson nodded. It did sound good. A path like this was necessary to get their camper off road far enough to be safe. And after all, the vamps had elevated senses and had been here for a couple days. Should be safe. Right?

Right?

Birthday Panic! (part 4)

NO PROMPT WORDS USED

Wilson squeezed Oliver’s hand and earned a peck on his cheek. Probably closer to a kiss than a peck since Oliver’s lips lingered for a tantalizing, reassuring moment. The wad of crumpled barbed wire that had taken up residence in Wilson’s stomach earlier in the night had long since dissipated like Shawshank’s Warden Norton’s fart in the wind.

“Happy birthday, love,” Wilson murmured.

Oliver snorted. “It actually will be, after all.” He shook his head. “It’s been a night to remember, eh?”

After they’d arrived at the chosen site, the vamps had worked efficiently, setting up the camper and prepping it with a double layer of heavy-duty tarps to protect it from flying debris. The thoroughness of the vampires even extended to climbing trees to make sure the ones overhead of where they were parking and where Oliver would stand for his shift had no unhealthy larger branches likely to be knocked down by the winds of Oliver’s shift.

Oliver bounced from foot to foot as he squinted at the eastern sky. He checked his watch for about the tenth time in as many minutes. “It’s almost time.” He gave Wilson’s hand a final press before pulling off his shirt and thrusting it at Wilson. “Remember, don’t wait until the last second. Put that oxygen mask on as soon as you go in.”

Wilson grinned. “I know, love. I know.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. Despite his earlier bravado about so many people sharing this day with him, his movements were stilted as he pulled off the remainder of his clothes. At least the vamps were pointedly not paying any attention.

Oliver’s oversized—for now—nipple ring glinted in the lamplight. There wasn’t as much glitter in his hair as per usual, but Wilson wouldn’t have bet against it sticking through Oliver’s upcoming personal tornado.

Wilson folded Oliver’s clothes into a neat stack and nodded at Marvin. “You guys don’t have to worry about oxygen, but you’ll still go inside, right? I mean, you can still get injured by flying debris, potentially bad enough that the self-healing you mentioned won’t overcome it, right?”

Marvin nodded. “True. Our people on the perimeter are far enough away, but I highly recommend the rest of you—” He moved an arm to encompass the other six vampires they’d traveled with plus three more who’d been at the campsite when they’d arrived. “—wait out Oliver’s shift inside. You can make your own decisions, but I think that’s the wise move.”

“Agreed,” Evan said with a firm nod.

“Yeah.” Lauren’s tone was more of a grumble. “Much as I’d love to witness the shift, I don’t want to risk ending up with a proverbial wooden stake through the heart.”

Scott affected a shiver. “Inside it is. But is there time to cut a few peep holes in the tarps?”

Marvin raised an eyebrow and bounced his gaze between Oliver and Wilson. “In your experience, how risky would that be to the camper’s windows?”

Oliver said, “There’s going to be a lot of tree shit flying around. Our cabins have shutters on the windows that we close for the shift, but Wilson’s able to peek out between them.” He cocked his head at Wilson. “You’ve said you can’t really see me once everything starts flying, anyway, right?”

“Right. As the shift begins, he raises his arms, then the wind kicks up pretty much immediately. It’s like a little tornado around him, and I can’t really see the actual shift. Just the swirling mess around him.”

“Oof.” Scott shrugged. “Cool, but not worth the risk, I guess.”

Oliver winked over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the slight clearing where he would shift. “The biggie back rides will make up for it.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Adam, one of the three who’d already been at the site when they’d arrived perked up. “Is that what it sounds like?”

“So we’re told,” Marvin said with a grin.

Wilson lifted the corner of tarp covering the door and led the way inside. He heaved a sigh and picked up the scuba tank, regulator, and mask. He’d been through the process enough times now that muscle memory took over, and he was fully equipped before realizing what he was doing.

That part of this birthday was routine, but nothing else about this day would be. Honestly, he looked forward to most of the uniqueness of this day, but much as he’d said there wasn’t much to see during the shift itself, he would miss being able to glimpse it through the crack between the shutters. It was a tenuous connection to Oliver during that chaotic phase at best, but his chin trembled knowing he’d be missing it.

All the vamps were repeatedly checking their watches, practically vibrating with excitement, counting off the minutes. For the final minute, they counted down the seconds in unison.

Until they got to five seconds, and three of the vamps’ heads jerked up like they’d just gone into high alert.

That wad of crumpled barbed wire reappeared in Wilson’s gut. He pulled out his regulator. “What is it?”

“Fuck,” Evan muttered. “How did we miss this? How is this even possible?”

Jessica moved to open the door as Scott asked, “What? I don’t smell it.”

Marvin put up an arm to block Jessica. “It’s too late. The wind will protect him, but we need to be ready to run out there the instant it dies down.”

Wilson’s eyes widened, and his hands shook as that barbed wire in his gut started to spin. He repeated, “What is it?”

Marvin’s face was a grim mask as he deadpanned, “A starving rogue vamp.”

Outside, alone, in the moment the sun peeked over the horizon, Oliver screamed. Then the wind picked up with a deafening roar.

Birthday Panic! (part 5)

PROMPT WORDS USED (supplied by a newsletter subscriber):
verdict ~ lounge ~ essential

Wilson frantically pushed toward the door as the words “starving rogue vamp” and Oliver’s horrifying scream reverberated through his head. At least two sets of hands held him back, tightening their grip painfully as he kicked and yanked against their hold.

He wailed, “Oliver!” with a strength that likely carried through the tornadic wind, then, in the next instant, he was outside, reclining in a folding lounge chair one of the vamps must’ve brought out, blinking himself awake. Damned vampires and their zombie ray tech.

There was a general sense of calm around the two huddles of vampires on the other side of the clearing, and Wilson wasn’t entirely sure whether to be upset or thankful to have missed the panic-stricken and impotent minute that would have felt like hours before he would have been able to rush to Oliver’s aid. Or more likely, been in the way of the vampires who were all trained in security and far more knowledgeable about the foe they were facing.

He shook his head to clear away the last of the cobwebs. His mask and regulator were back in place. Briefly. He tore them off as he leapt up and ran toward one of the huddles. The one with Oliver in the middle of it. Oliver in Bigfoot form.

He expelled a shaky breath. Bigfoot form. That meant he was alive. When Oliver’s aunt Ida had died while in shifted form, her body had shifted back into human form despite the time being well before sunset.

Still, Oliver had screamed. He’d been attacked. By a starving rogue vampire.

Wilson stopped outside the group surrounding Oliver and concentrated on working through a couple steadying breaths. Oliver was alive. The vamps surrounding him were calm. Everything was going to be okay. Presumably. And reverting to panic mode wouldn’t help anyone.

Marvin looked over his shoulder and waved Wilson forward. “He’s going to be fine. Scott and Lauren are both trained as physicians and are taking good care of him.”

So, “going to be fine” did not equate to uninjured. “How bad is he hurt?”

Lauren answered. “About ten sutures worth, but nothing critical was hit. He’ll be fine.”

Indeed, there was an open medical bag, and Josh was holding a small tray with various items Wilson couldn’t name on it, and with gloved hands, Jessica handed one of the things from the tray to Scott without him having to ask. She just knew.

Scott held a curved and threaded needle with some kind of scissor clamp and confidently pushed the needle through the skin on the side of Oliver’s head, which had been trimmed close but not shaved around the open wound.

Oliver’s gaze moved from the other huddle, where he’d been staring blankly at the vamp who’d attacked him, to gaze at Wilson and wink. Wink!

Wilson wouldn’t have thought it possible, but a corner of his mouth quirked up, albeit fleetingly. “Sorry. I guess I freaked, and they zombie rayed me again, or I would have been here for you sooner.”

A Chewbacca-like gurgle escaped Oliver’s lips, and his eyes effectively conveyed the sentiment that it was good to know something could break through Wilson’s usual chill. At least, that was how Wilson interpreted the humorous glint in Oliver’s eye.

Then Oliver twitched his chin up. Amazing how well his body language communicated when he was unable to articulate words. This time, he seemed to be saying, “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Then he scowled in the direction of the other vampire huddle, and Wilson turned his attention to Oliver’s attacker. It was a woman. A grubby, dirt encrusted woman whose eyes glinted like what one would expect on a rabid jackal. She was sucking on a bag of blood like it was a last-ditch lifeline. Which it probably was.

The third such bag, judging by the empties on the ground.

“You’re feeding her!?”

Marvin cocked his head and looked pointedly into Wilson’s eyes. “Of course.”

“But,” Wilson sputtered. “She tried to eat Oliver!”

“Because she was starving.” Marvin said the words like it was a simple concept. Which, to be fair, perhaps it was. Not so easy to see when the love of your life was the target of her need to feed, though. Apparently, the verdict was not guilty. Or at least pending a fair trial. No jumping to conclusions with this lot.

The slant to Oliver’s eyes was a touch disbelieving, too. Not sure whether that was vindication or not, but the renewed tension in Wilson’s shoulders eased at the solidarity.

“Sorry,” Marvin said. “I guess it’s not reasonable to expect you to realize, but those of us who are old enough to be on the security team or in positions of leadership, were around in rougher times, before we were organized and had stable, safe, and unharmful sources for feeding. Most of us know firsthand what she’s feeling when she’s resisted the urge to feed to the point of starvation.” His jaw was tighter as he bit out his next words. “We’ve been there. Done that.”

Evan nodded his agreement from the other huddle. He was the one holding the bag the woman was feeding from. Her own hands were held down by two of the others. “What a starving vamp does is not an indication of their true nature. Or if anything, it’s a good sign that she resisted feeding for so long when she couldn’t think of any way to do so without harming someone.”

Wilson’s shoulders slumped. Apparently, he couldn’t even justly hold a satisfying hate-on for Oliver’s attacker. And the reasonable side of him had to agree. The woman deserved a chance to explain her situation. Speaking of…

“How did this happen, anyway? You guys are organized now. Who is she, and how could she fly under the radar without being part of your organization?”

“We have the same questions,” Evan said. He gave her a solid sniff. “I’m pretty sure this is her first feeding.” He turned his gaze to Marvin. “It’s essential that we get to the bottom of this.”

Birthday Panic! (part 6)

PROMPT WORDS USED (supplied by a newsletter subscriber):
Stephen G: remote ~ shockingly ~ fester

“You can seriously tell that from her scent?” Wilson’s eyebrows shot up almost as high as Oliver’s brow ridge hiked in unison.

“We can tell a lot from a person’s scent. It’s too bad the medical training some of our people have can only be with the goal of becoming medical examiners. We’re great at diagnosing illnesses by smell.”

Wilson bobbed his head. Interesting, but why become MEs? Although, that might go a long way toward answering the unasked question he’d thought of earlier about how a society of immortals were able to blend into a human society that relied on traceable identities. Marvin hadn’t been even remotely messing around when he’d said they were organized.

The rogue vamp finished off a third bag of blood. Well, the bulk of the contents were probably inside her. Quite a bit was dribbling down her chin. She didn’t appear to know how to deal with the hulking fangs glinting in her mouth. Evan offered up a fourth. The rabid gleam in her eyes was dimmer now, but she didn’t refuse the offer. Given the chance, she would have drained Oliver dry.

Oliver was looking at her, too. His expression, now, was more curious than wary. Scott was about halfway through his row of sutures. It was amazing how fast he could complete the process for each one.

Still, how long had Wilson been zombified? Marvin had said more than an hour that first time getting them from that Walmart parking lot and most of the way to the campsite. So extended periods of time weren’t out of the realm of possibilities.

The rogue vamp was just starting on her fourth bag, but there might have been a delay getting those to her. They might have had a pair of stronger vamps holding her down while they prioritized Oliver, then once he was stabilized, they’d dealt with helping her, too.

Wilson had gotten stiches a time or two in the past and knew the prep could take a while. Plenty of bloody gauzes, a pair of used syringes—possibly for numbing and perhaps an antibiotic—and a couple antiseptic bottles littered another tray, now abandoned off to the side.

At least it was unlikely that the wound would fester, despite it being from the bite of another person. Those were supposed to be nasty with bacteria. Worse, a vampire. Wilson sucked in a sharp breath. A vampire. Oliver had been bitten by a vampire! Did that mean…

“Wait.” Wilson’s tone was a touch shriller that he would have liked. “Oliver hasn’t been…um…what’s the term? Turned?”

Oliver’s eyes widened and projected alarm, but Marvin was quick to reassure them. “No. Definitely not. Though it’s possible in a melee like this where blood from both of them might have been flying around, it’s a two-step process, and both timing and order are important. The odds were low, and he came through unturned.”

“But, how do you know for sure?”

“His blood is still red.”

Wilson gulped. Well, he’d asked, and now he knew. That did make sense, since they’d said they didn’t need oxygen, and he seemed to remember something about the iron in peoples’ blood reacting with the oxygen being the cause of the red color. The vamps did make a choice to breathe, but apparently that didn’t translate to an unnecessary transfer of elements as happened with humans.

“Cool.” Because there wasn’t much else for Wilson to say in response to that. He turned his focus back to Oliver. “You still doing okay?”

Rolling his eyes back toward Wilson without moving his head, Oliver winked again and made one of his Chewbacca-like noises. More of a rumbling murmur than anything with his typical gusto.

Wilson walked around to Oliver’s uninjured side, sat beside him, and held his hand. Giving it a squeeze, he said, “I don’t think you’re as okay as you want me to think.”

Oliver emitted a muffled snort. He looked over at the grubby woman chugging her fourth bag of blood and swallowed.

“You’re hungry!” Wilson sat straighter and placed his free hand on Oliver’s chest. “You’re always ravenous right after your shift.”

“Of course. So sorry.” Marvin turned to Luke, who’d been the driver on their trip here. “Please fetch one of the coolers for Oliver.”

Luke trotted toward the camper, and Marvin turned back to Wilson and Oliver. “Again, I’m sorry for overlooking that. Needless to say, we got a little sidetracked from our original plan.”

True enough, and Oliver’s hunger clearly didn’t rival that of a starving vamp. Any toads that made the mistake of coming withing easy reach notwithstanding, a hungry Bigfoot did not, to Wilson’s knowledge, turn into a crazed murderer. But, a Bigfoot’s hunger could still cause them to make shockingly unwise choices. Case in point, Oliver’s Aunt Ida.

Wilson freed his hand from Oliver’s and instead, snaked his arm around Oliver’s waist. In turn, Oliver wrapped his massive arm around Wilson’s shoulders and pulled him in.

With a heartfelt sigh, Wilson burrowed the side of his face into the crook of Oliver’s arm. A strong heartbeat thumped beneath his cheek. A reassuringly strong heartbeat.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Wilson murmured. “Well—you know—relatively.”

Oliver patted his shoulder. Yeah, he knew what Wilson meant. Could have been a whole lot worse. Instead, it looked more like they’d have one heck of a story to tell the Bigfoot community. Considering, of course, the vampires allowed them to share the story. Or for that matter, considering if Oliver wanted to ‘fess up to his sister and the elders how close he’d come to screwing them all over.

Too bad he couldn’t submit any of this to his tabloid for publication. Although, really, nobody actually believed the nonsense stories they ran. Well, nobody reasonable did.

But, nah…not worth it. He did not want to risk ending up on the wrong side of the vampires.

Oliver stroked light—for a Bigfoot—lines up and down Wilson’s arm, and Wilson patted Oliver’s back. He’d come over to try to support and comfort Oliver, but Oliver had turned the tables on him.

Luke returned, dragging a large cooler. He brought it around to the far side where Wilson was sitting.

“Thank you.” Wilson straightened and opened the cooler. He selected an apple and handed it to Oliver.

With an appreciative soft growl, Oliver promptly bit it in half, chomped maybe half a dozen times, and swallowed before pushing the rest into his mouth. No wastage when a Bigfoot ate. Everything went in, core, seeds, stem. Didn’t matter.

Wilson handed him a banana. Likewise, nothing went to waste. He bit it in half and swallowed after only a couple chews, then tossed in the remaining half. A couple carrots followed, then a cucumber, then an orange. Oliver’s eating style would become daintier and more Oliver-like later, once the initial voracious appetite that immediately followed his shift was under control. It would still be fairly continuous grazing throughout the day, though.

The rogue vamp, apparently now able to focus on something other than assuaging her overpowering hunger, eyed Oliver with a mix of curiosity and wariness. She was still only partway through that fourth bag and had stopped sucking on it to stare at the spectacle of a Bigfoot eating.

Her attention did not go unnoticed. Oliver narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger at her and made a noise that definitely had a “Like you’ve got room to talk,” vibe to it.

Fair point, which she acknowledged by wincing. And her eyes turned to an apologetic angle.

Oliver huffed and pointed again, somehow conveying an air of “Yeah, I’ll consider forgiving you, but no way I’ll ever forget, and don’t even think about letting it happen again.”

Or at least, that was how Wilson interpreted it. It was how he felt.

Marvin cleared his throat. “Are you doing okay, now?” he asked the woman. “Ready for a calm conversation, or do you need to finish that bag, first?”

She pulled the bag away from her mouth but didn’t relinquish it. But she pointed at her mouth and shook her head.

“Ah.” Marvin gave a grandfatherly smile. “I promise you, you can talk.”

She shook her head vehemently. With a loud snick, her fangs retracted, and her eyes widened.

“You just need to breathe,” Marvin said. “You can only talk if there’s airflow over your larynx.”

She blinked, then took in a deep breath. Her voice was rough, perhaps from disuse. “I thought I was dead—a zombie. I didn’t know what to do.” She turned to Oliver and added, weakly, with the last of that breath, “I truly am sorry. I tried so hard not to come out.”

Oliver remained silent. He wouldn’t be able to put his thoughts into words until after sunset, anyway, and had already “said” his piece.

“We understand.” Marvin patted her knee. “Most of us have been in your shoes.”

Evan said, “By ‘come out,’ she means from a dugout she’d made out there.” He cocked his head in a southwesterly direction. “She was underground, that’s why we couldn’t smell her until she emerged. She was silent, so we couldn’t hear anything, but we made no attempts to be quiet, so she could hear us, and knew people…food…were waiting for her.”

She winced and mouthed some words, then her face tightened, and she drew in another breath. “Not consciously. It was an overwhelming urge, and I fought it as hard as I could.”

“I know,” Evan said. “Sadly, I’ve been there, too. It’s been a long time, but those of us who were around before we organized have all been there.”

“Are you…am I…a vampire? Those are real?”

“Yes. Except for Wilson and Oliver—” Evan pointed at each of them in turn. “—everyone here is a vampire.”

Marvin added. “We’ll explain everything to you soon, but for now, know that much of the lore is nonsense.”

She nodded toward Wilson and Oliver. “What are they?”

Marvin smiled. “Oliver is a Bigfoot shifter, and Wilson is the only human in the world who knows we exist, and that’s only by virtue of his relationship with Oliver.”

“Unless we’re literally starving,” Evan said. “As you were, we do not turn into evil murderers when we’re turned. We’re the same people we were before, with the same capacity to live and learn and grow emotionally.”

“Yes,” Marvin said. “And as I mentioned, humans in general do not know of our existence, and it’s vitally important that they remain in ignorance. So, we need you to tell us what happened to you. You could have exposed us all, so we need to know about how you were turned.”

She drew in another audible breath. “But, I don’t know. It just…happened. Please, can you help me? I need to find out if my baby is still alive.”

Birthday Panic! (part 7)

PROMPT WORDS USED (supplied by an anonymous newsletter subscriber):
blanket ~ bridge ~ quarter

Every vampire within Wilson’s view, and probably also those Wilson couldn’t see but who could hear them, perked up at her words. It wasn’t quite the alert level the oldest three of them had gone into when they’d first sensed the new vamp’s presence right before Oliver’s shift, but definitely reminiscent of that.

Oliver made a questioning noise at the same time Wilson said, “What is it?”

Marvin ignored them and asked her, “Tell us about your baby.”

A chill ran across Wilson’s skin, and he shivered. Could those two things—not knowing how she’d been turned, and interest in her baby’s health—be connected?

Of course, asking about the baby was the empathetic first enquiry to be made, but they’d been extremely concerned about discovering how she’d been turned, yet their collective high alert had coincided with her baby entreaty.

Much as her plea tugged at Wilson’s heart strings, and he no longer questioned the vampires’ likely sincere concern for that innocent child, he sensed the alert was not about that. Thus, the chill. Wilson and Oliver shared a wide-eyed look before turning to stare at the woman.

The look in her eyes changed as if she, too, sensed something amiss about Marvin’s question. She shivered and made a weak noise before drawing in another frustrated breath so she could speak.

“She’s been sickly since birth. The doctors called it ‘failure to thrive,’ but apparently that’s an umbrella term that covers a lot of things, and they haven’t been able to identify or fix whatever was…is…actually causing that failure.”

Lauren handed Scott another threaded needle then asked, “Was she not eating well, or did she have a good appetite but problems processing that nutrition?”

“At first, she had a normal appetite. But it always made her so sick, and she started rejecting everything. She couldn’t digest the breast milk, and we tried so many specialty baby formulas. None of them worked, and she’s been in and out of the hospital.”

Scott didn’t even look up as he tied what looked like the final knot for Oliver’s stitches and asked, “In the hospital, did they feed her through an NG tube or parenteral nutrition intravenously?”

“Both, they tried that tube through her nose first, but she couldn’t digest whatever they were feeding her through that, either. She’s surviving on IVs, bypassing her digestive system.”

“Has she gained any weight?”

“She has, finally, with the IV feedings.”

Scott nodded and turned his focus to her. “How old is she?”

Josh collected the trays of used medical supplies and headed for the RV. Now free, Oliver swallowed the clump of grapes Wilson had just handed him then fully pulled Wilson into his arms for a reassuring hug that drove the chill from Wilson’s bones.

The woman pulled in another breath and shook her head. “I don’t know how long I’ve been hiding here. She was almost six weeks old when I realized…or rather thought I’d somehow turned into a zombie. I was afraid I’d hurt her…Ellie…that’s her name. I was afraid I’d eat her brains or something.”

“Is Ellie’s father in the picture? Other family? Friends?” Lauren asked. “Did you leave her in someone’s care?”

“No father, no family. I have friends, but none in a position to deal with that. I would never have abandoned her alone, though. I couldn’t talk, or at least I thought I couldn’t, and I was terrified someone would figure out I was a zombie, but I dashed into the NICU, where they all recognized me, thrust Ellie into a nurse’s arms, and ran out.”

Marvin gave a decisive nod. “That’s great. Then she’s probably still alive. When you say there’s no father or family in the picture, how solid is that?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He tapped the side of his head and grinned. “Working on a way to get her back to you.”

Hope flashed in her eyes. “Do you think they’ll let me take her back after abandoning her like that?”

“Don’t know, but that’s not how it would go down. You can’t remain in your existing identity, and neither can Ellie. On paper, you’ll both die then get new identities within our network.” Marvin winked. “We’re very good at making that happen.”

“Truly? I can get her back? How?”

“Yes, but as to ‘how,’ we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’ve got a lot of information to gather before working out the details. First, it would really help to know who might be looking for you and asking too many questions about you or your baby’s demise.”

Josh returned with a lightweight blanket and draped it over the woman’s shoulders.

“Thanks.” She blinked at Josh, pulled it around herself, then returned her gaze to Marvin. “Okay. Um, family disowned me years ago because I quit hiding the fact I’m a lesbian, and they’re off the deep end with their evangelical beliefs. They’re states away, and no contact at all.”

Marvin nodded. “And the father?”

“I got roofied at a party. Woke up at home, chalked up the blackout to a lesson learned since I didn’t see any way to figure out whodunnit, then I didn’t otherwise think too much of it until I figured out I was pregnant a couple months later. No idea who the father is.”

“And friends?”

“Got bunches, but I wouldn’t consider any of them BFF material. If they spoke to any investigators trying to track me down after I abandoned Ellie, they wouldn’t have had much to tell them. They’d just figure I’d snapped under the pressure and taken off for…anywhere but there.”

“Perfect.” Marvin pressed his hands together and smiled. “Now we need to talk about what happened in the final moments before you thought you’d turned into a zombie. But first, briefly, I want to apologize for getting carried away with our questioning and skipping introductions. My name is Marvin, and I’m the faction leader for the Boston-Worcester-Springfield vampire collective.” She’d already been given Oliver and Wilson’s names, but Marvin proceeded to name all the nearby vamps for her before asking, “And what’s your name?”

“Karla, with a K.”

“Pleased to meet you, Karla with a K. Your background is going to make it relatively simple for us to assimilate you and Ellie into our society.”

She snorted. Or at least it looked like she attempted to and would have made a noise if she hadn’t run out of breath. Again.

To be fair, much as it seemed to be second nature to the other vamps, Wilson had to acknowledge that having to continually make yourself breath when it was no longer a mindless involuntary reflex would take some getting used to.

Karla rolled her eyes and drew in some air. “Never thought being such a pathetic loser would work in my favor.”

Oliver whimpered, and Wilson patted his hand. Many people wouldn’t have granted Karla any quarter after the way she’d attacked Oliver, but the vampires’ statements laying out how attempting to starve herself was actually a sign of good intentions rang true. One of the many things Wilson loved about Oliver was his good sense, innate kindness, and the way he looked for the best in people—at least he did once he’d had the chance to gain a little perspective.

So, Wilson put into words what Oliver was probably thinking. “You’re not a loser. You are a victim. A victim of homophobic parents who left you without the family support most of us benefit from. And you were the victim of a rapist. By all accounts, you’ve been a wonderful, caring parent despite having the deck stacked against you.”

“Absolutely,” Marvin added with another of his decisive nods. “Now, let’s get back to the final moments leading up to you being turned.”

“Ellie’s not a vampire. You said your blood isn’t red, but hers is. And she doesn’t have any teeth let alone fangs.”

“I agree. Vampires are turned, not born. But we’ve often speculated about how the first of us came into being. And for that matter, has there been more than one first-tier vampire? History tells us that must be a very rare event.”

“You don’t know how?” Wilson asked. “Didn’t you say you have perfect memories? And some of you are thousands of years old.”

“True,” Marvin said. “But in the old days, before we organized and weeded out the evil doers, most freshly turned vamps had no better idea what was going on or how to survive than Karla here did. Many of us did not live long as a vampire before being killed. The original first-tier vampire apparently was killed before telling their story, assuming they even knew the answer as to how they’d been turned.”

Evan added, “The original first-tier vamp—or vamps, if it’s happened more than once—likely didn’t even know they were turning another when they gave into their need to feed. It wouldn’t have happened every time, but as mentioned earlier, someone can be turned in a melee where the vamp is deliberately drinking his victim’s blood, and if the victim is fighting back and draws blood, and a few drops of the vampire’s blood end up in their mouth…well, just like that, they’ll become a vampire, too. Eventually one or more of us put two and two together, figured out how to turn others, and shared that intel.”

Karla was silent, staring into space as if reliving her final moments as a regular human in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and gnawed at her lower lip. When she reopened her eyes, she whispered, “Ellie liked to suck on my finger, like it was a pacifier. I had a small cut at the cuticle of that finger, but it wasn’t actively bleeding, or I’d never have used it.” She swallowed. “I suppose the suction could have opened it enough to get a little out?”

“It doesn’t take much.” Evan’s tone was gentle. “What happened next?”

“I noticed a fresh scratch on her cheek, near her ear. And I thought I should trim her little nails because that wasn’t the first time.”

“That’s not uncommon,” Scott said. “Babies that young don’t have the fine motor skills to scratch itches with caution.”

“I…” Karla winced. “I smiled and cooed at her and told her she was a sweet little girl, and that I would kiss it to make it better.”

“And you did.” Evan’s words were a statement more than a question.

“I did.” She shook her head as if trying to erase the mental image. “What is Ellie, if not a vampire?”

Marvin took one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I think Ellie might be what we’ve long speculated to be…a proto-vamp.”

Birthday Panic! (part 8)

PROMPT WORDS USED

n/a

Speculated.

So, they didn’t know, but of course over the centuries and millennia they’d pondered how they’d come to be. Probably a lot. If Wilson had had more than just a few hours to get used to the idea of vampires’ existence, he likely would have wondered about that, too.

Karla asked, “What does that even mean?” as Oliver snagged a head of cabbage out of the cooler, stretched, and stood. He kept his eyes on Marvin, though. Speculation though it may be, with thousands of years to brainstorm with each other and think about the possibilities, they’d probably come up with some solid ones.

Wilson moved his gaze back to Marvin, too. Apparently, Baby Ellie fit in with at least one of their ideas.

“As I said,” Marvin said. “We have no firsthand knowledge of how we came into existence, or even anyone’s secondhand knowledge from talking to a first-tier vamp.”

“But…” Wilson prompted.

“But we’ve speculated that there might be an extremely rare mutation in the genes of some humans that can cause them to be able to unwittingly turn others into full-fledged vampires. We weren’t sure if those prospective people—proto-vamps if you will—led perfectly normal human lives, or if they had any characteristics in common with vampires.

“Ellie’s inability to digest food might…might…suggest that she can only digest blood, same as us. It appears she will age and grow as a human would with the help of those IV feedings—or possibly on a diet of blood. I’m inclined to doubt there’ll be any more to it, but we don’t know for sure where she’ll fall regarding our perfect memories, healing ability, or improved senses.”

Evan nodded. “Time will tell. That’s really all we know, and we won’t be able to find out more or make any progress on this until tomorrow. We’re committed to staying here today.” He patted her hand. “Rest assured, Ellie is in good hands for now, but how are you doing now, Karla? Need more blood, or are you good?”

“I’m good. Thanks so much for understanding.”

“As we said. Been there, done that. No judgment when you’re starved.”

“Right,” Marvin said. “Now…how about a nice hot shower, eh?”

“Oh my god, I would kill for a shower.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Karla winced, and her gaze flew to Oliver.

Oliver grunted and simultaneously rolled his eyes, shrugged, and popped the last of that head of cabbage into his mouth.

Clearly, he was over it. He lifted one eyebrow—brow ridge?—at Wilson in an enquiring manner. Usually after his initial feasting, he got restless and wanted to move and walk around within his safe zone.

Wilson turned to Scott and Lauren. “Is Oliver cleared to be a little active?”

Oliver warbled his Chewbacca-sounding wail in a tone that suggested…

“Or more than a little active?” Wilson clarified.

Scott and Lauren looked at each other, then Lauren said, “Probably? Obviously, we’re no experts on Bigfoot physiology, but he seems to be doing well.” She turned to Oliver. “I would suggest you don’t do anything that would affect your sutures. They’re on your head, so you don’t really need to worry about stretching the tissue, but you want to avoid rubbing the area against anything. Otherwise, let your body dictate what you can or cannot handle.”

Marvin steered Karla toward the RV and the promised hot shower, and Oliver hitched his head at Wilson and rolled his hands in a manner that implied…

“You want to get the ball rolling?” Wilson asked. “Move past the drama and treat this day like it was ‘normal’ shift?”

Oliver warbled what Wilson recognized to be a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I know this is anything but normal regardless. I meant back to what we expected this day to be.”

Oliver nodded, winked, and patted his back.

“Oh babe.” Wilson snorted a laugh. “Really? You’re up for Biggieback rides? How much blood did you lose?”

With a carelessly lifted shoulder for emphasis, Oliver lifted a hand showing his thumb and pointer finger half a centimeter apart.

Lauren had wandered off to do whatever she was on duty to deal with, but Scott was still nearby, so Wilson called out to him. “Did Oliver lose much blood? Is he cleared to actually give Biggieback rides?”

Two huge fists landed on two beefy hips in a pose that clearly said, “Didn’t Lauren just say I was cleared for anything I felt up to doing?”

“I know, I know,” Wilson said. “I just want to make sure that encompasses hauling people around, not just hiking freely.”

Scott was grinning as he watched them. “Yeah, he’s cleared. Even in human form, the amount of blood he lost wouldn’t have come anywhere close to requiring a transfusion. The size he is now? It was miniscule, plus it happened before the shift, and I suspect there’s a good chance that the shifting process resupplied him while he was pulling his extra mass from the air anyway. If he doesn’t feel shock-y, he can do anything that won’t affect the sutures.”

Oliver harumphed, and Wilson called back, “Thanks.”

“Fine.” Wilson flashed a conciliatory smile at Oliver. The one he knew generally worked miracles at getting him out of trouble. “Who’s first?”

Another harumph punctuated with narrowed eyes, and Oliver pointed at Wilson, who wasn’t entirely clear if that was an “I know what you were pulling with that smile,” or a, “You can be first,” but he wasn’t about to ask. Better to assume the latter, or at least act like he did.

“Awesome.” Wilson clapped his hands together. “We’ll show them how it’s done, eh?”

Oliver snorted, but a grin peeked out, and he patted his back again. Wilson steered them toward the RV’s entry stairs. He could jump and climb onto Oliver’s back from the ground, but he didn’t want to risk damaging the sutures. Oliver likely knew that was what was motivating Wilson’s maneuver, but he didn’t add any commentary and simply followed along.

With his Bigfoot strength seemingly unaffected by the recent injury, Oliver easily handled the heavy lifting, holding onto Wilson’s legs. Once settled, Wilson only needed his arms over Oliver’s shoulders to hold for balance, not to keep from slipping.

Wilson pressed his face into Oliver’s neck and murmured, “Love you.” Then after Oliver’s answering warble, he added, “Now let’s have some fun!”