The Adventures of Vance Prior
Author's Note
Thank you to Hellsing for the inspiration to do a vamp story; and thank you brain for the idea of transporting a staked vampire to another dimension.
Knowing my weaknesses, I will be trying to keep dialogue to a minimum, and keep it mostly to the storytelling.
Vance Prior - Prologue
Ten minutes...
I had ten minutes to make it out of that ghastly hell hole, and warn my friends. And I hope, for all that hell has waiting for me, that it takes less than that.
You see, I was a cashier at a damned thrift shot, last week; and yesterday, I was running for my life from something we could only describe at the risk of sounding insane. We had lived for many millennium, mostly skeptically, somewhat regarding the vampire as nothing more than either mythology, or mistaken identity. People who were buried too early, and moved in their grave; or just someone playing a practical joke.
Rarely did the idea of a vampire ever seem serious; apart from this weird cult that swore they were fucking vampires. They would primarily drink blood, while more delusional parts of their cult would perform some sorts of satanic rituals in the hopes of becoming immortalized by the night. Well, they were delusional at the time; and those that are still alive would probably be laughing their asses off, if it wasn't at such a terrible expense.
The vampires we met on my last day of work were not the ones you know from classic fiction. You do have a handful who can mimic an average person, and blend in until they need to show up; but, the general group of these undead freakshows are more akin to those you could find in something like 30 Days of Night, where they were far more feral-like. They were just a step above the damned zombies that somehow didn't come with them.
Our group leader said it was likely something to do with a religious context, that determined the outcome of your infection. While in the short week since the outbreak, we learned that most mythological crap couldn't be listened to, there were a few things that kept their weight; and oddly enough, it was religious relics. I'm not much of a believer, but if you give me evidence of your faith, I will be one step closer to it.
And that's what happened about two days after the outbreak. Many of us were hiding out in a large church near the middle of the city-- a strategic depth charge that should have backfired on us the moment we stepped foot in those cursed... or blessed... well, the halls of the damn church. We had all been sleeping during the day, trying to adjust our sleeping cycles to focus on defense during the night; so, we had completely disregarded the access tunnel underneath the church.
Because who the hell builds an access tunnel in the 21st century, outside of fucking Disney!?
And one of the more intelligent vampires seemed to remember it, as he used to be a member of the church. So, during one of the midmorning naps, they made their move on the church; the access tunnel came straight from the direction of the court house, but I don't know if it reached all the way, or if it was intersected by the other buildings in the way. All I know, is that we woke up to loud screams coming from the downstairs area.
Myself, the priest, and some good ol' southern boy with his "blessed crossbow" were the ones tasked with checking it out, and taking out the infestation. In all of this supposed God's grace, he did something I am thankful for; those feral vampires did not need holy relics. A simple blade to the head seemed to do the job, and I was okay at that. The priest, and that redneck were something else, though. More than once, they got a creep before he would take a bite out of my shoulder. I was on defense, while they were pushing through the minor horde. I was a bitch, to put it nicely.
Then came the big wig, and he was something fascinating! I had never seen anyone move so fast, or shove a nailed-down set of church pews with the ease that he did. It was with our luck, that the priest had done his homework on the vampires-- where he had the time to do such a thing, I have no clue. Unless that's a part of your priesthood, to study the undead. But, being prepared with a cross, and some holy water for the crossbow's wooden rod, the lead vampire was nothing more than a chew toy when he finally got close to us.
Something about the cross kept him at bay, and the priest was calling out verse after verse, getting out almost three who scripture passages before the hunter managed to arm the crossbow. With a whistle, the priest ducked down, and the wooden bolt sailed with true aim into the bastard's heart. At first, it didn't seem to do much; while the aim was true, there was a chance that it wasn't a straight-on heart shot, but just a graze. After about ten seconds, at which point the vampire was beginning to get cocky and trying to imply the hunter missed, he burst into flames.
The flames were hot, and they were wild; but in a scene that seemed right out of fiction... well, outside of what I was seeing right then-- the flames never seemed to catch on anything except the vampire. His demonic screech lasted for a moment before he crumbled into nothing. I must have been staring for a while, because the priest looked to me, and decided to give me a little impromptu lecture.
"The normal vampires are easy," he said. "Basically anything that could kill you and me, can end them. For their masters, or the leaders like him, it gets complicated. Since I'm not exactly a very high-ranking priest, in the religious sect, the most I can do is bless an item with holy water. As for the Catholic church, their Bishops, and in succession the Pope, can bless wooden stakes-- or any weapon, for that matter-- with much more holy power. I know you told me religion isn't your thing, but here's the difference. My blessing is slow, and burns them to a crisp; he will never come back again. The Bishop's blessing will also send them away for good, but the spectacle seems different; instead of burning, they seem to simply disintegrate into particles of ash."
I listened to this old priest for some time, after that. Or, at least until today.
As I said, I had ten minutes, and that was because I managed to get bitten by one of those coldblooded sonovabitches. So, my last plan of action was to go to the priest, and have that hunter put me down, too. From what I know, he liked me the least-- being that I was a so called "contrarian little bitch"--, so he would be swift with putting me down. But, first, I needed to make it there; and the vampire I just killed left me in the damned access tunnel!
I was right, by the way. It did lead to the courthouse; we decided to hole up the general population of our surviving group while the priest and a few others stayed in the church. From what I could gather, they were using many of the wooden pews, and other unnecessary wooden tools to create more bolts and stakes. This would make for quite a fine death; hopefully we had gotten one of the Bishops in, too. It would be much nicer to not have to slowly burn to death.
But, as stated before, I would have to make it out of that damned tunnel. And, the amount of bodies that had amassed there over the singular week was impressive; I really didn't feel like adding to the numbers. The bite also burned like hell; the city officials definitely spewed some lies on that front-- or were fed lies. They had apparently captured one of the more intelligent vampires, who told them the turning process was relatively painless for the average human. Though, to be fair to the officials, the vampire likely didn't tell them what the average person was. Basically, non-virgins became the ferals, while virgin victims were likely to turn into the more... would you say civilized vampires? They were definitely more polite about it.
All I knew, is that I had the strongest burning sensation in my ankle. And the door was still likely almost a football field away, so I had to hurry. I wasted likely two minutes just sitting there thinking about going! So I took off running, and hoped that the blood that was about to start rushing through my body didn't accelerate my turning. For a moment, it felt about right, as I was trying to keep it at barely a jogging pace.
But, I was about as out of shape as you could get without being overweight; so, I was already feeling my heart pounding. And that burning was only getting stronger the longer I waited; it didn't help that it seems to be paired with a serious case of drowsiness. I wonder if their bites were contaminated with any diseases, considering how many some of those vampires might have bitten.
Thankfully, after what I considered likely took me three MORE minutes, taking out half my survival time, I finally made it to the church door, and was knocking fucking frantically. It seemed that they were having a meeting at this time, because the door swung open frantically. With surprise, they ushered me in, and tried to get me to talk as I was trying to catch my breath. One look onto my face told the priest all he needed to know. Well, enough to know that something was wrong.
The moment I said to them that I was bitten, the hunter and the Bishop were getting up, and trying to move away from the nearby table. I held up my hands, which were beginning to turn a little pale, and told them that I came to warn them that a minor swarm is making their way nearby, and they did not seem to have a head vampire, right now; and that I need them to kill when I turn.
They were curious as to why I asked them, and didn't just have someone in the courthouse try and do it; to which I responded with what I hoped they could understand, saying I felt like the hunter would have much less of an issue capping a vampire than the others. It took me several moments to explain, at which point I keep feeling weaker, and I soon found myself hitting the floor. With a little translation between me and the Bishop-- mostly consisting of the priest trying to interpret my mumbling into something the Bishop could use to help themselves-- I finally managed to convince them to give the hunter a blessed bolt, and finish me off once I turned.
After a few moments, the priest and the Bishop left the room, leaving me in a moderate space with the old country boy, and a fully loaded crossbow. I had actually managed to stay somewhat conscious over my ten minute mark, making it to nearly fifteen minutes. The hunter simply stood there, waiting until I would pass out from my infection; and he didn't wait too much longer, as I felt myself fade fast.
Then my eyes snapped open, and I could hear the loud snap of the crossbow; I could feel a goddamned sun-spot hot piercing blow to my chest, and the world seemed to go black. It was upon realizing that I could open my eyes again, that I came to realize something; I wasn't quite dead, yet.