That Thing At the Zoo - 01 by James R. Tuck Read Free Book Online Page A

Numbness chased the pain to my fingertips, funny bone vibrating from the blow.
    I sucked air in desperately, choking on sewer fumes. Cold water soaked my legs through the denim of my jeans. Something with too many legs skittered by, brushing my face with prickly feet, making me jerk my head away. Slowly I got to my feet, using the wall to pull myself up. My flashlight nearly fell out of my hand as I fumbled it from my belt.
    Holy Mary, Mother of God, just let this thing work.
    Pushing the button I was rewarded with a bright circle of bluish light. Thank you.
    Reaching for my gun I couldn’t feel my fingers. My grip strength was for shit as I pulled the gun free of the holster. Heavy in my hand, it threatened to fall to the ground. I prayed I wouldn’t need to use it before my hand recovered. If so, I would drop it with the first shot. Sweeping the flashlight around, I saw I was in a tunnel, not quite big enough for me to stand up in. A shallow stream of filthy water ran down the center. Dense fumes wafted back and forth, thick toward the ground, thinner up by my face. The air still made my eyes burn with a rotten egg smell of sulfur. It lay heavy on my tongue, tugging at my gag reflex with every swallow. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and that helped a little. My head hurt and I couldn’t tell if I had hit it when I fell or if the gas was causing it. I had to move. Too long down here and I would not make it back out.
    The ultraviolet bulb in the flashlight made the concrete glow. I studied the walls, looking for a sign of which way to go. Taking a few steps I found it. Blood splatter.
    Blood does not glow in ultraviolet light. I know it does on TV, but that isn’t real life. Forensics units do spray Luminol, a chemical agent that reacts with iron in hemoglobin, to make blood patterns glow in UV. I don’t carry Luminol with me. Without Luminol, blood actually absorbs ultraviolet light, making it look solid black. Under the light of my flash, the Nosferatu’s blood stood out like a signpost. Carefully I followed it, trying to not splash in the sewer water.
    It wasn’t long before I found the first rat.
    It was a sewer rat. I hate sewer rats. They aren’t normal rats. No, they live in sewers and live on shit and carrion. They look like a regular rat that a mad scientist has grown to mutant proportions. The one I found was the size of a cat. The head had been ripped off and the body crushed and misshapen. My imagination flared and I could picture the Nosferatu using the rat like a beer. Popping the top. Drinking it down. Crushing the empty.
    More rat bodies led the trail and I stopped looking for blood spoor to track. I was moving faster, feeling the pressure of time. The amount of blood in a rat wouldn’t do much to heal the vampire, but every one would do a little. From the trail of carcasses, it was clear she was on the road to recovery. I had to catch her before she got too strong and I got too weak. I was feeling the burn in my lungs from the sewer gas and my shirt tasted like bitter salt over my mouth. The streams running down my face soaked the shirt; my eyes were raw from exposure.
    An intersection of sewer line was just ahead. The sound of squealing called around a corner.
    I leaned on the wall and darted a glance down the adjoining tunnel. The Nosferatu was there. She was kneeling and holding three rats the size of Chihuahuas. There was a pile of something in front of her that moved and shifted. A three-inch claw slashed out from her other hand, decapitating the rats. Their screeches choked off to silence. For a second I heard no sound at all and then soft, dove-like coos came from the Nosferatu. The pile in front of her shuddered and rustled moistly.
    Easing my gun forward, I aimed at her back. It is hard to get a good draw on someone from around a corner when you don’t want to be spotted. I had the laser turned off so I wouldn’t tip my hand, but just as I got the three dots on my sights lined up with