Everyone Dies in the End #55

Cindy

Her mind swam to the surface of consciousness. She sensed movement, rhythmic, yet inconsistent, rough. She was sitting, the seat beneath her hard, the smell of canvas, chemically treated canvas, strong in her nostrils. An engine throbbed, deep, diesel, and she knew. It was the troop transport, if not the same truck, similar to the one Ramzke and his henchman transported her away from the farm in South Carolina, but of course that had never happened, at least not in anyone’s world but her own. She had changed that world. Although changed it was, she was once again in a truck, on the move. She blinked, clearing the sleep from her eyes. It was dark, but not completely so. She could see the truck’s canvas cover, rippling slightly from the passage of air on the exterior, supported by the metal ribs on the inside. She sat on the wooden bench lining one side of the interior. On the other bench, directly across from her, sat Ramzke.

“This is getting old, vampire.”

He smiled. “We do seem to be caught in a circle, no?”

She looked at her feet. No anklet? “How come no ring on my ankle?” Ramzke looked genuinely puzzled. 

Cindy smiled, “Oh that never happened, did it? Not in your mind.”

Ramzke pursed his lips, nodded. “Perhaps I know what you are talking about. Perhaps I do not. Either way I know you can be quite elusive, so I’ve taken,” he paused, “precautions.”

The image rushed into her mind. Zak!

Zak standing helpless, or not helpless, she could never envision Zak as helpless, but at least captive, held by the vampire, the pistol deadly black against his temple. Her heart screamed; her voice flattened. If Zak was dead, she would kill this vampire. Kill him or die trying.

“Where is he?”

“Safe. Ahead.”

He didn’t screw around. She would give Ramzke that. Give him the respect he gave her with a straight answer. Before she could ask what “ahead” meant, he told her.

“I am tired of chasing you. You escaped once. Something in here,” the vampire touched his chest, “tells me that maybe you have escaped from me more than once. You won’t escape again, at least not if you wish your human friend to live. As I said, he is ahead, in another vehicle, also headed for Philadelphia.” He paused, studying her face. “I can see that our destination is not news to you. How is it that you know these things, Cindy?”  

He had never used her name. The sound of it on his lips chilled her. There was a certainty in its utterance, a finality. It was merely a word, but in that word she heard so much more. The vampire Ramzke spoke, Cindy, but she heard I know your name, I know who you are, you will never escape me. All these things went through her mind, the chill, the fright, the understanding.

Cindy shrugged. “I’m a fast learner.”

Ramzke said nothing more He stared, perhaps glared, at her. She didn’t know, she didn’t look. You don’t meet a vampire’s stare. She knew that. Her mother had taught her that. The road bumped along, time passed, she grew drowsy.

“I’m a fast leaner too, human.’ It was as if he had materialized out of thin air, but vampires couldn’t do that, could they? Only she could do that. But he was next you her on the hard bench of the troop transport, his lips next to her ear. “I think you want to go to Philadelphia, I think there is someone there for you.” His voice was soft, his lips brushing her ear. “I think that when I find that someone I will use him to make you do what I want, because I think you love this someone. Is that want you think, human?

Slowly she turned her face until their lips were only a breath apart. “I think,” she breathed softly, "that one day, one fine day. I’ll cut off your head and shit down your windpipe.” She blinked herself to the other bench and shrugged.

           “But who knows, maybe I’ll just ram a stake through your heart.”