Underground Vampire Read Free Page B

leisurely
finished his meal, musing all the while on why he should not be allowed to
consume prey.
      Other than the
shattered front window, the two dead bodies with what appeared to be most of
their blood spattered about the pristine walls of the living room, and the
couples’ Bertram 36 bobbing derelict in the swell off Bellingham, the San Juan
County Sheriffs found no physical evidence.  The two bodies with their
throats torn out and the blood and tissue spattering the floors and walls were
gruesome but reassuring, as the savagery suggested the depredations of a wild
animal rather than a deranged cannibal loose in the Pacific Northwest. 
     The paw prints tracked about
the house, initially thought to be wolf, were later determined to be from the
couple’s Shi Tzu, which was eventually found cowering under the enormous bed
located in the master bedroom.  None of the available cash and jewelry was
missing and valuable artwork was untouched.  The boat was probably torn
from its mooring by the violent storm, which undoubtedly broke the window, allowing
the predator access to the house. 
     Local law enforcement was
staunchly anti-global warming, anti-environment, anti-democratic,
anti-immigration, anti-minority rights, pro-gun and anti-union, except for
their paychecks and pensions, and rabidly opposed to Wildlife Habitats’ efforts
to preserve and restore the ecosystem of the Salish Sea drainage area.
      Commander Gunderson, police
chief for life, donned his favorite uniform, the one with the gold piping and
stars.  He’d requested field marshal rank from the uniform catalogue shop
and been disappointed to learn that the traditional designation for a European
Field Marshall was a baton. He thought the baton foppish, something limp
wristed conductors waved, and settled for the American General of the Army
rank, five stars  arranged in a cluster on each of his shoulder boards.
     He went on the local news
station to assure the public that they were safe and, when the blonde holding
the microphone lobbed the inevitable softball, he hit a soft single with “Yes,
Tiffany, you bring up a very good point.  If it wasn’t for the liberals’
interference with God’s plans, these poor people would be alive today,” thereby
cementing the station’s continued support at election time.
      Smiling a mouthful of
impossibly perfect banality Tiffany burbled, “The Liberals just killed two
more; you heard it first on fair and balanced news.” The station manager longed
for liberation from the small station backwater and promotion to a major
market, where he could make a difference in the culture war.  When they
weren’t cheating on their spouses, Tiffany and he schemed ways to stand out in
the increasingly cluttered conservative sphere. They’d seized upon a graphic
representation of liberal perfidy and Tiffany painted the thermometer of death
red, solemnly intoning, “Two more, at this rate we’ll reach our goal by
Christmas.” Gunderson sat smiling, admiring her shapely legs as she walked
across the set.
     Returning to his war room,
Gunderson changed into his tactical combat uniform, all the while contemplating
the military grade assault weapons and, his secret pride, an armored vehicle
complete with a rotating turret sporting a .50 caliber machine gun he’d
purchased with the county’s share of the Homeland Security allocation. 
After blowing the budget on his combat arsenal, there were no funds for a
morgue, emergency vehicles, lab equipment or a Medical Examiner to deal with
the remains of persons whose demise suggested foul play. He longed to lead his
men into battle, defeating the forces arrayed against America but, annoyingly,
there were no suspects and none of his deputies could locate either a wolf or
an alien anarchist group to blame for the deaths.
    He’d revamped the department by
firing the local boys who had made up the department and hiring police officers
from Los Angeles who had been forced