First Kill: A Dave Carver Novella by Andrew Dudek Read Free Book Online

Nate and I stood for a
few minutes more, watching as flames licked out of the broken
basement door. The FDNY had it under control. It wasn’t going to
spread to other buildings. It wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Finally,
Nate turned away without a word and began to walk down the block. I
stayed still for a moment, watching the building burn.
    “Hey,” Nate called.
“Aren’t you coming?”
    Was I coming? Of course I was. It
wasn’t like I had anyplace else to go. I hurried to catch
up.
    As we headed back towards the subway
platform for a good day’s sleep, Nate put an arm around my
shoulder. “Congratulations, kid,” he said. “Welcome to the
Family.”
     
    Chapter 8: Safe at Home
     
    Three hours later, in the station, I
sat next to a small, portable grill and watched hamburgers sizzle.
I don’t know where Luisa had found the chopped meat, but she’d
procured it from somewhere. Hector and Maria sat nearby, huddled
together and whispering in each other’s ears. I didn’t really see
any of this. The memory of the way the vampire’s eyes had blinked
stupidly would be with me forever. There was a chance I would never
really see anything else again.
    I was hungry, and the smell of the
burgers was mouthwatering. I was tired, too, but I knew I’d never
sleep today. My body was keyed up, adrenaline pumping in my veins
like liquid jackhammers.
    “Dave?”
    Nate stood behind me, still dressed in
his battle clothes. His machete was still sheathed at his
hip.
    “Yeah?”
    “Come with me for a
minute.”
    I followed Nate into the section of
the platform that functioned as his office, separated by a large
piece of plywood and on old shower curtain. Nate pulled the curtain
closed, cutting us from the rest of the Family. That older,
gray-bearded man that I’d first seen weeks ago was sitting back
there.
    His name, I knew, was Squirrel. The
nickname came from his beard—gray and coarse—not from his size. He
was huge, with bulging muscles under his denim work-shirt. His
forearms, neck, and hands were covered with old tattoos. He was
wearing rubber gloves and holding a small machine in his hands. It
looked like an Industrial-Revolution-mating of a ballpoint pen and
a handgun, with lots of little moving pieces and a pointed needle.
It was hooked up to a car battery. The machine made a high-pitched
sound somewhere between a buzz and a whine. A tray was set up on a
nearby stool, full of caps of colored inks.
    “Is this what I think it
is?” I whispered.
    “You’ve made your first
kill, kid,” Nate said. “You’re one of us.”
    “Sit down.” Squirrel’s
voice was gruff and hoarse, as if from long years of whiskey and
cigarettes. He pointed at the hard-backed plastic chair next to
his.
    I stripped off my T-shirt and
sat.
    “You ever have a tattoo,
son?”
    I shook my head.
    “ ‘ Kay,
well it’s gonna hurt. Not too bad, though.” His narrow dark eyes
focused on the slash-marks on my chest, the ones from the vampire’s
claws. “Not too bad. I expect you’ll have felt
worse.”
    Damn right. I was a conquering hero. I’d killed a vampire. My
body bore the bloody gashes from its unholy claws—I wasn’t afraid
of a needle.
    The buzzing increased until it sounded
like a ‘roided-up bumblebee. Squirrel leaned in, taking my left arm
hard in his hands. I grinned, feeling about as cocky as I ever have
in my life. The big man touched the humming needed into the upper
part of my bicep.
    I yelped. I was ready for
it too hurt, but I was expecting a sharpness, like being cut.
Instead, it felt like Squirrel was rubbing my skin with sandpaper.
It hurt more than I expected, a dull, scraping ache. Nate leaned
against the filthy wall, an amused smile on his face. I gritted my
teeth and let out a single breath. Okay. I
can do this.
    “You know,” Nate said,
“you did good back there, kid. Real good. Most of us lost it a
little bit the first time. But you…you’re like a
natural.”
    I shrugged, causing Squirrel to