Free C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation by Dustin J. Palmer

4
    John
     
     
    The Bishop Home, Midland, TX.
    July 31, 1994, 9:32am
     
     
    John pulled back into Midland a little after 9:30am. His wounded arm throbbed painfully. Pulling back his sleeve, he noticed the bandages were soaked all the way through. Later. He thought. It can wait, Julia can’t.
    Turning down their block, he held his breath and prayed that her car would be in the driveway. That she'd be sitting in the living room with her arms crossed over her chest, mad as hell that he and Jake were gone.  His heart sank when he saw it wasn't.  It leapt into his throat when he saw the front door broken off its hinges.  
    John pulled into the driveway and angrily shoved the truck into park, then pulled  The Cleaner  from behind his seat along with his Smith and Wesson .357 magnum.  The odds of a vampire still being inside with the sun so high in the sky was damn near impossible, but he’d been trained by the best and didn't take chances. Never again, not after last night, I’ll never let my guard down again. 
    Deep down he almost hoped to find one of the bloodsuckers hiding in a closet.  He'd enjoy turning it to ash after what they'd done.
    Slowly stepping inside, he held his gun ready.  The house was completely ransacked.  Most of the living room furniture was literally ripped in half.  The TV had been tossed completely through the sheetrock of his living room wall.
    He carefully stepped into the kitchen, trying to avoid the now thick, clotted vampire blood still covering the floor. Marty, I’m sorry brother. Of all the people, why did it have to be you? You poor drunken fool. Both doors of his refrigerator were ripped completely off. Long deep claw marks were carved into the wood of the cabinets and counter tops. From the amount of carnage, it was clear there had definitely been more than one.
    Scanning the rooms with The Cleaner held tightly to his shoulder, John walked down the hall stepping over broken family photos and pieces of Jake's toys. Stopping at Jake's room, he looked over the worst of the damage.  His son's twin bed had been broken into a dozen pieces, the sheets and bedspread shredded. All of it sat in a large pile in the middle of the room.  What few clothes Jake had left in his closet were gone.  Bastards got his scent and by now, they've probably passed his clothes around to every vampire in a hundred mile radius.
    Fear for Jake’s wellbeing swelled in his chest.  For seven years, he'd believed himself to be safe. After Terry, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He had lost far too many friends over the years and he wasn't going to lose Julia or Jake the same violent way.  All he cared about was getting them away from that life. He was done with the whole bloody, violent business.  Let the others take on the task of killing he'd told Cort.  This hunter was done.  Thirty-eight notches in only six short years marked the vampires he'd sent to hell. He’d taken his first kill at eighteen. He’d taken his last at twenty-four.
    Now it’s thirty-nine. I’m sorry, Julia . . . I should have taken you both across the river. "They never cross the Mississippi river."  His old mentor Billy Williams had told him.  Years later Ben Morris had confirmed it.  He had searched through the records of every single confirmed and suspected vampire kill in the history of the U.S. and he hadn't come across a single kill east of the Mississippi.
    Of course, his pride kept him from running. It was bad enough cutting ties with everyone and everything he cared about.  He would be damned if he'd leave Texas. It was his home. It was in his blood. No one would push him out.  He just wasn't going to take the fight to them anymore. He'd never forgive himself for making such a brash, selfish decision.   That old Bishop Pride.  
    John stepped into the master bedroom to find the same thing. The furniture was all destroyed, pictures ripped to shreds. "John," A voice sounded behind him. Startled, John turned and