Lubbock, TX.
April 9, 1995 8:17am
Jake watched the houses of his street speed by as the car he was now trapped in pulled away from his life in Lubbock. For the second time in less than a year, he’d been ripped away from everything he knew and cared about. Is this what my life will be like from now on? He thought to himself. What’s the point of ever caring for anyone or anything if you’re just going to get ripped away from it?
“What’s going to happen to my Grandpa?” He asked the silent men on either side of him. Both men continued to stare out the window, neither of them bothering to answer.
“Ah come on guys. The least you can do is answer me.” Jake said, looking at the cold, glaring eyes of Mr. Murphy staring back at him from the rear view mirror.
“Just sit back and keep your mouth shut.” Murphy replied with a snarl. “We’ll be at the airport soon.”
Jake smiled inwardly. Keeping his mouth shut was the last thing he was going to do. Time to play the kid card. “An airplane? Cool!” He exclaimed. “I’ve never been on a plane before! Man this is going to rock! What kind of plane is it? Is it a jet, or a single engine? What color is it? Man I sure am hungry, you guys wouldn’t happen to have something to eat would you? Wow look at that car over there! I bet it goes real fast! Could you turn the air on? It’s getting too hot back here.” On and on he went the entire thirty-minute drive to the airport. The white knuckled grip Mr. Murphy now had on the steering wheel and the grinding motion he was making with his teeth just made Jake complain and ask questions that much more. This was the most fun he had in a long time and it didn’t stop once they had boarded the plane. For the next four hours, he did his best to drive the three men nuts. He kicked their seats, pushed every button he could find, say he needed to use the bathroom every thirty minutes. By the time they landed, all three men’s faces had turned beet red.
The plane landed in a small airstrip surrounded by trees. “This doesn’t look like New Mexico.” he said, stepping off the plane onto the tarmac. “Where the heck are we?”
“None of your business.” Dolan said, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him violently. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!”
Maybe I should stop pushing. Jake thought to himself as Dolan shoved him into a waiting suburban.
An hour and a very quiet car ride later Jake’s eyes grew large as saucers as the car pulled up to a very large chain link fence. Behind it stood the biggest house, he had ever seen in his life. It looked like a castle out of medieval times. The property was surrounded on all sides by a fifteen-foot high razor wire fence with giant floodlights protruding from dozens of different poles. Heavily armed guards patrolled the grounds with automatic rifles and German Sheppards. Jake’s first impression was that it looked very much like a prison.
On three sides of the property was a mass of solid trees. As he stared at them, he almost felt as if something was staring back at him. A sickening feeling grew in his gut. He had a very good idea of why his grandfather had so much security. Monsters in the night . . .
Two guards approached, checking the IDs of the men in the car. After they were cleared one spoke into a walkie-talkie and the two sets of electronic gates pulled open. After the car pulled through, they were immediately closed back. “Whatever you do boy, don’t try to climb that fence.” Opening his mouth for the first time, the lawyer known to him as Mr. James, barked at him. “They’re electrified with a few hundred thousand volts. You’d be dead before you even realized your hand had touched the wire.”
After exiting the car, they led him through a large set of heavily fortified doors that looked as if they could withstand tank rounds. Immediately inside was a massive room with a two large staircases. Standing in the middle of the room wearing a large gray frock was an older man with slicked back gray hair and an annoyed look about him. “He’s your problem now, Paul.” Murphy said, shoving Jake towards him.
“Indeed,” he said, with a thick English accent. “Mr. Riker would like to have words with you now that the boy has been safely delivered. I believe you know the way to his study.”
“I do.” Murphy said, with a nod. “Good luck kid.” he said with an evil grin then got close and whispered in his ear. “You’re going to need it.”
“Uh, hi.” Jake said slowly, not sure what to make of this.
“My name is Paul. Please follow me. I will take you to your room. Your grandfather will meet you later this evening for dinner.”
“Uh, okay.” Jake said, slowly. “Is there any way I could make a phone call real quick? To make sure my Grandpa is okay.”
“You may not,” Paul said, heading up the stairs.
They walked up the stairs, down a hall completely void of color or pictures to a room at the very end. Paul opened the door to the most amazing sight an eleven-year-old boy could hope to see. The room was absolutely packed full of toys and games. Three large arcade games sat in the corner as well as four different pinball machines.
The biggest TV that Jake had ever seen sat against the southern wall with a VCR and state of the art surround sound system sitting on top of it. Next to that was every gaming console ever made with several hundred games. Jake’s mouth hung wide open. Everything a kid could ever want was right in front of him. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all! He thought to himself. Walking slowly into the room he tried to take it all. He turned to say something to Paul only to see he was already gone. “His loss!” Jake said, aloud.
Jake immediately ran over and grabbing the remote off the top of it, turned on the TV. “Yes! Cable!” He exclaimed flipping through the channels. Turning on the Super Nintendo, Jake sat down on the edge of the king size bed, controller in hand and went to work. For the next two hours he did his very best to play through every video game.
Right about sundown, as Jake was winding down a game of Super Mario World, Paul returned with a handful of clothes. He laid them gently on the king size bed in the middle of the room.
“Dinner will be served in one hour,” he said, in a thick English accent. “Shower and make yourself presentable.” he then walked out of the room closing the door behind him.
Jake took one look at the clothes and knew he wasn’t about to change into them. He’d never worn a tie in his life and he wasn’t about to start now. An hour later, he walked downstairs still wearing the clothes he had put on that morning.
Paul stood at the bottom of the stairs. Jake took one look at the rage building in the old butler’s eyes, and knew he had made a big mistake. “Stupid boy!” He yelled, his voice echoing through the large room. “I gave you express orders to change!”
“Orders?” Jake reached the bottom of the stairs and looked down at his faded black T-shirt. “Who are you? The clothes police?” Jake never saw it coming. Paul backhanded him right across the bridge of his nose knocking him to the bottom step.
“You will do as you are told!” he exclaimed. “You will not dress as a common hoodlum! Not whilst you reside in this house!”
Jake grabbed his now throbbing nose in shock.
“Come.” Paul said, seeming to gather his wits. “Your grandfather is waiting.”
Jake stood up hesitantly keeping his distance from him.
Paul led him through the giant entryway into an even larger room with wood paneling on the walls. As with most of the house, he had seen so far, the room was completely devoid of any pictures or artwork. A long mahogany dining room table sat in the middle of it. At the head of the table sat a very old, very frail looking man with an overly large straw cowboy hat on. His bushy gray eyebrows threatened to overwhelm his cataract covered eyes and an overly large blue flannel shirt hung loosely on chest. Instead of a dining room chair, he sat in an electric wheel chair. Oxygen tubes attached to his nose and a brownish yellow urine bag hung from the side of his chair with a tube running up under a stained blanket covering his lap.
Jak
e tried to hide his disgust. Even from across the room he could smell the old man’s strange musty stench. He stood there nervously not quite sure what to do next when Paul’s overly loud voice caused him to jump. “Mr. Riker, sir! May I present your grandson, Jacob!”
“Eh?” the old man screamed across the room.
Jake could have sworn he saw a glint of annoyance in Paul’s eyes but the butler quickly hid it. “Forgive me sir!” He said, even louder. “Your grandson sir, Jacob!”
The old man didn’t say anything but nodded, his mouth chewing some unseen morsel hidden away in his cheek.
“Uh . . . hello.” Jake said, nervously.
“You’ll have to speak up. Mr. Riker has trouble hearing.” Paul whispered.
“Hello!” Jake yelled across the room.
“Hmmph.” The old man muttered then began coughing. “What the hell are you wearing?” he said, when he was done hacking. Reaching into a pocket on his flannel shirt, he pulled out a very thick pair of glasses and placed them on his nose. His eyes seemed huge as he stared at Jake for what seemed like an eternity before speaking again. “You look like a hippie.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Jake said, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t give me lip boy!” He exclaimed then began another hacking cough that ended with him spitting a large wad of yellow phlegm into a rag.
He hears better than he lets on. Jake took a second to remember his mother’s smiling face. This was her dad. Disgusting or not, he deserved a little respect. “I’m sorry, um, Grandpa!” he said, loudly. “I didn’t mean any disrespect!”
“Ah well. I guess you can’t help it.” He said, snapping his frail boney fingers. “Your daddy was trash. Only figures you’d come out the way you did.”
Jake was speechless. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to respond to that.
Paul walked into what could have only been the kitchen, and returned with a very large, very rare, bloody T-bone steak and set it in front of him. A matching steak he set in front of Jake. There were no sides, no baked potatoes or vegetables just a large bloody steak. Jake stared down at it in disgust. It wasn’t that he didn’t like steak. He loved steak! He just preferred them not to still be mooing.
Paul stepped away from him and began cutting up the steak for the old man. When he finished, Riker, without a word of thanks, waved him away with his hand. Man Grandpa and Dad were dead on about this guy. Jake thought to himself, He’s a real mean son of a bitch.
They ate in silence for the next ten minutes, all of which Riker chewed or rather gummed the same piece of steak the entire time, his eyes never leaving Jake. Jake felt a tingle up his spine as if someone had just walked over his grave. He lowered his eyes unable to meet those of the old broken down man before him. “You look like your daddy.” He said, then snorted and dropped his napkin to his plate. Without saying another word, he turned his electric wheel chair and wheeled away.
Paul walked over and looked down at Jake. “Return to your room. Dinner is over.”
“But I’m not done yet.” Jake said, quickly taking another bite of his bloody steak. It was disgusting but he was ravenously hungry. Paul hit him in the back of the head knocking the piece of meat from his teeth. “I said, dinner is over!” he jerked the plate away.
All the video games in the world aren’t worth this. Jake thought to himself. Alone he walked slowly up to his room and laid down on his bed then stared around at all the pointless stuff surrounding him. When his parents had been broke and living in little more than a shack, he had dreamed of having a room like this. Now he would gladly give it all up just to have them both back. “I sure miss you Mom and Dad.” He said aloud into the big lonely room. A tear fell down his cheek. “And you too Grandpa.” Although it was barely nine pm, he fell asleep.
The next morning he was awoken bright and early at five am by Paul opening his curtains. “What! What’s going on?” Jake said, jumping out of bed, images of creatures lurking in the darkness filling his mind. He had the same old nightmares again.
“Your tutor will be here in one hour’s time.” Paul said, “Do not make the same mistake you did last night. Get yourself bathed, and dressed properly! I will return in one hour.”
Not wanting to be hit again Jake did what he was told. He stepped into his very large personal bathroom and stripped down to take a shower. When he got out, the clothes he had laid on the marble countertop were gone. Angrily he stepped back into his room with a towel wrapped around him. He was beyond mad. First, they had left his suitcase back in Lubbock now they had stripped him of the only clothes he still could claim as his own. “Where are my clothes?!” He yelled out to no one in particular.
“I disposed of them.” Paul’s voice carried in from right outside his door. “Now put on something presentable before your tutor arrives.”
“But it’s Saturday! School’s out on Saturday!” Jake yelled back at him.
“School is never out here. You will be taught every single day from six am to three pm.”
Jake heard the butler’s footsteps proceed down the hallway. He dropped the towel around his waist in disgust and grabbed up the shirt and tie neatly laid on his bed. Jake shook his head in disbelief then dressed. Less than thirty minutes later a “properly” dressed Jake made his way downstairs, where Paul handed him a plate with two dry, nearly burnt pieces of toast on it. Jake picked one of them up and hit it against the plate. It was stale as cardboard. “What’s this supposed to be?”
“Breakfast. Not hungry? Fine.” Paul said, reaching for the plate.
Nearly starving from barely eating the entire day before, Jake jerked the plate away before Paul could take it. Grabbing up a piece in each hand he shoved them into his mouth as quickly as he could. “Sumting drink?” He asked through a mouthful of bread.
Paul disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of warm water. Jake didn’t even bother arguing, but downed the entire glass then finished the last of his toast. After he was done Paul led him to a large room where dust covered books lined the shelves. A single solitary table sat in the middle of the dim room with a single green lamp sitting on it.
Sitting at the table with a worn black briefcase in front of him was an overweight, white haired man with a thick set of bifocals covering his eyes. He wore a tight fitting suit with a red bow tie. He nodded at Jake and smiled warmly. “Good morning Mr. Riker. I am Mr. Orwell. I will be your tutor.”
Jake turned around half expecting to see his grandfather wheeling up behind him. When he noticed there was no one but him standing there it dawned on him, the tutor was addressing him. “Uh, my name isn’t Riker. It’s Bishop. Jacob Bishop. But you can call me Jake.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” Paul said, coming up behind him with a stack of books. “Your name is no longer Bishop.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked spinning around to face him. “You can’t just change my name.”
“It is your grandfather’s wish. He is your guardian now and he has decided you need a name more befitting your new stature.”
“Unfreaking believable.” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “Just when I think this can’t get any worse.” Paul ignored him and walked out of the library, closing the doors behind him.
Mr. Orwell leaned across the short table and just barely above a whisper said, “It’s not all bad lad. Believe me, things could be a lot worse.”
HOW! Jake thought but didn’t dare say. Over the next six hours, he struggled to stay awake as his tutor prattled on about the great Roman Empire and Julius Caesar. At twelve, he was given a one-hour break for lunch but was not allowed to go outside. “It is forbidden.” was all Paul would say as he brought him a peanut butter sandwich.
Undaunted, Jake tried to sneak out anyway and ran smack dab into three armed guards who quickly escorted him back inside. To his relief they didn’t tell Paul. At three, he was released
back to his room where he was able to play video games and watch TV until dinner, but Jake didn’t feel like doing any of that.
As he lay on his bed, his mind began contemplating plans to escape. From what he could see there was no way out. The windows were all heavily barred. The only way in or out that he had seen was the front door but beyond that was two fifteen foot tall, electrified, razor wire fence. There was little hope for an escape, but his Grandpa Cort had taught him that even the worst of situations could be gotten out of if a man just took the time to stop, think, and plan. So that’s just what he did.
At dinnertime, he was once again escorted to meet his grandfather in the great dining hall. Again, they sat at the football field length table. Riker, as Jake had begun to think of him, seemed to be wearing the exact same clothes he had had on the day before. “Hmmmph.” he said, making a deep rasping sound in his throat. “That’s more like it.”
“More like what?” Jake asked, looking at him confused.
“Your clothes. That’s the way a boy should dress. Not like some bum off the streets.”
Jake couldn’t take it another second. He threw his fork down on his plate. “Why did you bring me here? I was more than happy at my Grandpa Cort’s house.”
“Who could be happy living with white trash like that? No heir of mine will be living in such filth.”
“My Grandpa isn’t white trash!” Jake yelled across the table. “He’s twice the man you are! What the hell have you ever done?” Jake asked his heart pounding in his chest.
The old man stared back at him. He took several long raspy breaths then tilted his cowboy hat back with one skeleton finger. “Boy.” he said, slowly. “Look around you. I’m the fourth richest man on this planet. I can buy anything or anyone I set my eyes on.”
Though he knew he would catch a beating for it, Jake couldn’t help himself. “Could you buy my mother’s love? Could you buy my father’s respect?”
Riker’s eyes blazed with fire. He had most definitely hit a nerve. “I don’t need his respect! You worthless piece of Bishop trash!” he yelled then began coughing into his already stained blue handkerchief. He spat a mouthful of phlegm into his rag. A long piece of it stretched from his chin down to his chest. “How dare you talk to me like that! I had hoped at least some of my blood ran through your veins. But I see you’re nothing more than a sniveling piece of shit just like your sorry excuse for a father. You will never see one penny of my money! You hear me boy! Not one penny!”
“You mean old bastard!” Jake yelled back, unable to control his anger. “I don’t want any of your money! And I didn’t ask to be brought here!” Paul’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders pushing him back into his chair. “Get your hands off me!” Jake said, trying to pull away from his grip.
Riker snarled at him. “You are dead to me! You hear me, boy? Dead!”
“Good!” Jake yelled back still struggling against Paul. “Then let me go home!”
“Oh no!” Riker said, grinning. “I can’t do that.” Jake could almost see the light bulb forming over the old man’s head as an idea took root. “I’ve got a much better idea. I’ll use you as bait!”
“Bait?” Jake asked confused at this strange turn of events. “I don’t understand.”
“They want you bad, boy! Real bad! All my sources connected to their world say they are looking for you. So maybe, just maybe I’ll just let them have you.”
"Who?” Jake asked, terrified that the answer would be what he thought it was. “What are you talking about?” he said, praying it wouldn’t be that. Please God anything but that.
“You dumb little snot! The vampires of course!”
Jake felt his heart leap into his throat. His own grandfather was about to serve him up on a silver platter to the one thing he feared more than anything else in the entire world. “Why would you do something like that?”
“Oh I won’t just let them come in and take you. But I’d wager they’d be willing to do just about anything to get their hands on the son of the legendary John Bishop!” He said, followed by a combination of violent coughing and laughing.
“You’re insane!” Jake yelled at him. “You are totally insane! These monsters took my mother! Your daughter!” Jake shook his head in disbelief. “What could you possibly want from them?”
Riker stopped coughing and inhaled several long breaths from the oxygen tubes in his nose. “Stupid, stupid boy. My daughter died the minute she married that piece of shit John Bishop. But vampires could give me so much more!”
“Like what?” Jake stammered.
“The one thing I can’t buy, immortality?” he said, then turned his chair and wheeled away.
Paul let go of him and Jake jumped to his feet knocking his chair over. He didn’t even look back but ran as fast as he could upstairs to his room. He slammed the door as hard as he could with tears pouring from his eyes.
He had to find a way out. There had to be a way. The front door was too well guarded. The windows were all barred. A phone was his only hope. He would call his Grandpa Cort and teach Riker a thing or two.
Hours later, when all the lights in the house were finally off, Jake crept slowly through the house. After thoroughly exploring every room upstairs, he hadn’t found a single phone. Just empty, dusty, long unused guest rooms.
Ever so carefully, he crept downstairs. He hadn’t taken a single bite of food at dinner. Dining with a complete lunatic had caused him to lose his appetite. Now his stomach rumbled loudly. Might as well make a stop at the kitchen while I’m down here.
It was dark downstairs. Not a single solitary light was lit, but he didn’t dare turn on one on. Somewhere on the first floor was not only Riker’s room, but Paul’s as well.
Creeping through the darkened dining room, he walked through a pair of double doors he had seen Paul go through earlier that evening. On the other side was a massive kitchen filled with various appliances. It was hard to make out though as the kitchen had no windows. Searching along the wall, he found a row of light switches. He flipped them one by one until the kitchen was bathed in light. All of the appliances looked as if they hadn’t been used in years. He opened a row of cabinets to find stacks of plates coated in a thin layer of dust. Where’s the fridge? He thought looking around. A large door that could only lead to a walk in freezer stood at the other end near a large dishwashing station. Opening it, Jake stepped inside the chilly room. It wasn’t a freezer at all but a large refrigerator. Jake’s jaw dropped.
Hanging in rows four deep from the front to the back were dozens of bags of blood. “What the hell?” Jake exclaimed. “What is going on here?” He quickly stepped back through the open door and slammed it shut much louder than he had intended. Jogging quietly back to the door he flipped the light switches off and crept back into the dining room, fearful that someone would come to investigate the loud noise. A snack can wait! I’m getting the hell out of here! He thought to himself in a panic.
As he crept further into the house, he began to hear voices steadily coming closer. Jake quickly ducked through a door to find a dimly lit staircase leading into what looked to be a very small basement. He leaned close to the door listening. Paul’s voice accompanied by someone he didn’t recognize walked by and then out of earshot.
Jake dropped to the floor completely motionless. Then he began hearing something else. A strange high-pitched whistling and it seemed to be coming from the bottom of the stairs. His curiosity got the best of him and he began to ever so quietly to descend into the room below.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn’t believe how tiny the room really was. It was barely eight feet wide and was completely empty; only a single swinging light bulb lit the small space. A small hole was on the left side of the wall. The whistling stopped as Jake stared into the hole. “Hello?” Jake said, his voice quivering with a touch of fear.
r /> A grizzled, dirty face appeared smiling back at him with deep red eyes and long fanged teeth. It took Jake a few seconds to register what he was looking at. When he did, he fell back in terror. “What do we have here?” The creature on the other side asked, “Why if it isn’t a young lad! Has the greedy old corpse sent me a treat? Another one of his bribes?”
Jake was speechless. A vampire! A vampire!
“No, not a bribe . . . hmm . . . an adventurer then! Come to see the monster in the basement? Well then boy come along. Have a good look!”
His stomach spinning and his heart pounding, Jake stepped back to the hole and glanced inside. All he saw was an even smaller room without a single piece of furniture in it.
“Up here.” The voice called to him.
Jake angled his head up so he could look at the room’s ceiling. Hanging from it was an old man with a very dirty, long white beard. He smiled with a mouthful of fangs and began laughing. Jake stumbled back in terror. Riker had a vampire locked in his basement. Not just any vampire. Not some mindless, brutish grunt like the beast Marty White had become. This one was intelligent. This one was a Maker.