Free Hunter of the Dead by Stephen Kozeniewski Page A

air with it. Used just like a bat, he could probably take someone’s head off with one good swing.
    Price tapped him on the chest.
    “Remember: limbs, head. Everything else is crap. You slice a nightcrawler’s belly open; he’ll regenerate in no time flat. Now get in the fucking car, Mickey Mantle.”
    Nico nodded and hurried into the passenger’s side, desperately trying to find a way to stash his implement of destruction so that it wouldn’t gouge a hole in him if they hit an unexpected pothole. Price climbed in opposite and started the car.
    “One last thing.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Don’t you fucking get me killed.”
    Nico shrugged.
    “I’ll do my best.”
    Burning rubber, they peeled off for the reservoir. Instantly, Nico had the feeling in the pit of his stomach that they were too late, like when he suddenly found himself alone in school after hours and all the lights turned off. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe if he had just listened and hadn’t spent so long trying to be the hero…
    And now look at me. I’m going to die. I can’t fight that thing. It’s going to rip my head off. And then my headless corpse will be a distraction and Price’ll get killed, too. He’ll be like, “Noooo!” but then The Damned will just…
    He could’ve peed his pants just then. That felt a lot like being in school after hours, too.
    Man up, Nico.
    That was his dad. Back home in Puerto Rico. Back before…
    “Stop daydreaming, kid. We’re here.”
    Nico glanced along the edge of the lake. The car’s headlights created a pool of visibility in the otherwise inky blackness of the night.
    “There,” Nico said, pointing.
    Footprints led out of the water, as though the Creature from the Black Lagoon had emerged onto land. The prints were anthropomorphic, but inhuman. Almost like Bigfoot.
    “Say, you don’t think vampires are the source of…”
    “Shut the fuck up, kid.”
    Nico swallowed his words. The prints led from the edge of the water to a small copse of trees. Price stepped out of the car and Nico did the same.
    “All right, stay here. Stay in the headlights.”
    “Are the headlights UV or something?”
    Price stared at him.
    “No, kid. They’re just lights. Unless you can see in the dark?”
    “Are you pissed now because you wish you’d installed UV lights?”
    Price shook his head.
    “UV doesn’t do anything to them. The sun is this whole other…thing. Look, just stay in the fucking light where I can see you. I’m going to go check out that grove. And if I don’t come back, uh…”
    Price thought for a moment, couldn’t seem to come up with anything witty or useful, and simply shrugged. Machete in one hand, sawed-off in the other, he disappeared into the treeline.
    Nick swallowed a lump in his throat. Suddenly, every scary movie and campfire story he had ever seen or heard came rushing back to him. And each and every one seemed to have a scene like this, where the heroes or the victims split up, and then one wasn’t paying attention and…
    “Get thee behind me, Satan!”
    Nico turned and waved his bat towards the figure on top of the Caddie. Price came rushing back.
    “What’s wrong, kid?”
    Of course, there was no figure on top of the car.
    “Nothing, I just thought I…”
    Price grabbed him by the scruff again, and as if to prove his above-average strength, pulled Nico up onto his tiptoes.
    “Kid, I didn’t think I needed to say anything…but shut the fuck up. That’s all you have to do. You have one job. What’s your job?”
    “To shut the fuck up.”
    Price shook him.
    “Try again. What’s your job?”
    “To…”
    Nico pinched his lips closed. Price nodded.
    “Okay.”
    Price stomped off into the woods again. Nico wiped a bead of sweat away from his forehead. This was not going well. This was not going well at all. One more shock to the system and he was going to unload his cheese and tuna sub into his work slacks. And he only had one other clean pair of pants…
    Of course, none