Odin Sway

During the summer of 96, Benny and Autumn hung out often, and much to Benny's delight, he had found that the girl he was quickly falling for was to attend IUPUI as well.

"If you don't mind me asking," Benny replied when he heard this news, "what made you decide to go all the way to Indianapolis for school when IU is much closer?"

"I don't know," Autumn answered playfully, "maybe I thought there was a guy up there who was going to art school because it's supposed to be one of the premier schools of art in the country, and he wouldn't mind a new girl shacking up with him."

Benny smiled at her, "You're going there just for me?"

"Of course. I'm majoring in accounting, which is pretty much the same wherever you go."

He only stared at her, unable to find the words to express how he felt. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her deeply.

They had not been intimate yet but Benny knew they were close, so his next gesture wasn't just an act of kindness but also an attempt to speed things up. "I got a little surprise for you too."

"Cool, I love surprises."

Benny reached into his jacket pocket and produced an envelope. He then opened it and pulled out two concert tickets.

Autumn read the headliners on the tickets and squealed, "Oh my God, you got Marilyn Manson tickets?"

"Yep, this Saturday at the State Fairgrounds."

She kissed him again and that night they made love for the first time. Then the second. And a third.

Autumn sat in the back of the hearse lost in memories of days long gone. They were so young then. Benny was still trapped in his grunge phase, complete with shaggy, blonde hair that in no way matched the dark patch of hair that grew on his chin. A flannel, ripped jeans, combat boots with the strings hanging loose. He wore it all so well and she fell for him hard.

The concert was the turning point. Where their interest started to merge and their lives intertwined into their college years. Years that were full of partying, alcohol, drugs, and sexual exploration, as well as further education. Through it all, she never wavered. She was his he was hers, and that was it.

Over the past ten years, she was always able to count on him. No matter what she needed, he always had her covered. Even now, returned from the grave, he was ready to do whatever it took to bring her peace. To be with her again. Has there ever been a greater love in the history of the world?

Autumn didn't think so. The world may never know about it, but as long as she knew, that was enough. And who knows, by the time this adventure was over, they could be famous. It may be for all the wrong reasons, but still…

The back door of the hearse opened and Frank looked in at her with a smile. "Hello, Autumn."

"So, if she was killed by a vampire, why cut her throat? Why didn't they suck her blood?" Benny asked.

"They don't work like that," Frank explained. "They're very secretive and they wouldn't do anything to draw attention to themselves. They wanted to leave a message and that's how they did it. Now, tell me what's going on with Autumn."

Benny told his father everything Autumn had told him and when he'd finished, he repeated the question he had previously asked.

"Will you help us?"

Frank pulled his wallet from his back pocket, fished through it a little, and removed an old, beat-up business card.

"I've never trusted these people," he said. "From the very first moment I met them I knew I had to be cautious. And prepared. Go see this guy, he'll give us everything we need."

"So, you're in?" Benny asked, taking the card.

"Of course I am," The Old Man said.

Benny hugged his father for the second time in one day, "Thanks, Dad."

The two men stepped away from each other, both giving Jack an embarrassed look.

"What do you say, Jack?" Benny urged. "Are you in?"

Jack let out a sigh. "Vampires, huh? We could all die on this little adventure."

"What do any of us have to live for?" Benny inquired.

Jack seemed to think about the question a moment. About how much he loathed his job, his love life, and his life in general. "Well, when you put it that way. Fine, I'm in."

"Alright then," Frank said, clapping a hand on Jack's shoulder, "let's get started. First, you guys need to go see that friend of mine. I have a few things to grab from my office, and then we'll all meet back at Jack's house."

The Writemans said their goodbyes and the hearse sped out of the parking lot toward Bloomington, about ten miles north of Triloville.

Frank turned and walked back toward the front entrance of the bank. He stopped when he heard a rustle in a nearby tree, and looked up in time to see a small bat flying away to the north.

He had a sneaking suspicion that more visitors would show up soon.

As Jack, Benny, and Autumn pulled into the driveway of the small two-bedroom house in Bloomington, the headlights of the hearse fell on a skinny, balding man, who waved at them from the leaf-covered lawn. Benny couldn't help but laugh at the man's pink bathrobe and large, yellow-toothed grin. He almost looked like a mad scientist's assistant in an old black and white monster movie. All he needed was the hump on his back. Jack rolled the window down.

"How's it going?" the man shouted over the rustling leaves that were being blown around by a sudden harsh wind, "Hey, it would probably be easier if you guys turned around and backed into the garage."

"No problem," Jack said. He rolled the window back up and turned to Benny, "Dad sure keeps some interesting friends. Why do you think we need to back into the garage?"

"I don't know for sure," Benny replied, "but I think we just met an arms dealer."

Once the garage door was closed with the hearse was safely inside, the three Writemans got out and looked at the stranger, unsure of what to do next.

"Don't be nervous or anything," the man said. "Your dad called me and told me you were coming. You must be Jack." He shook Jack's hand and then took Benny's, "and I take it your Benny."

"That's right," Benny said quietly.

The man gave Autumn a confused look, "And you are?"

"Autumn."

"Right, right, Autumn. Name's James Palatino, nice to meet you all. Follow me."

James led them inside the house, through the living room, and down a hallway toward the bedroom. "That's a bitchin car by the way."

"Thanks," Benny and Jack said in unison.

"Your dad found me shortly after he started dealing with the vampires," he went on. "He told me what was going on and I agreed to help. He didn't want to make a move against them but thought it better to be prepared for the likely possibility that they would turn on him. So, we started getting together every Sunday over on the Indiana University campus to play chess and talk sports."

"Oh, so you're his chess buddy," Jack mused.

"That's me, only we weren't really talking sports. We came up with our own series of code words that, as far as I know, successfully hid our dealings. He'd mention something about Peyton Manning's stats, which would be total bullshit, and I'd know what he wanted and how many bullets he wanted to go with it. I don't think vampires follow sports so, if they were listening, they didn't pick up on anything. As a result, your father is now well prepared for the current situation."

James reached for a string that was dangling from the ceiling and yanked on it. A set of steps came sliding down and the four of them climbed up to the attic. Benny, Jack, and Autumn stood quietly in the dark for a few minutes as James shuffled away from them. A light switch was hit and the room lit up. When Benny's eyes focused his mouth dropped open in pure shock. What lie there before them were racks and racks of guns of various makes and models. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of weapons lined the walls and filled the middle of the attic, which ran the length of the entire house.

"My Dad ordered all of these?" Benny asked.

"No, actually this is your Dad's section here," he said, pointing to a corner area, "the rest of this stuff belongs to other clients."

"All you have are silver bullets here," Jack observed. "How many other people are out there shooting vampires?"

"You'd be surprised. Not just vampires either. While silver is deadly to a werewolf, it's also a weakness with vamps and many other creatures. Anyway, you can take as much of this stuff as you want and toss it in your car. Oh, and here, your father wanted you two to have these. He has one himself."

James pulled two straight samurai swords off an elegant stand and handed them to Benny and Jack.

"How did he know we would be involved in this?" Benny asked.

"As I said, old Frank wanted to be prepared for anything, including making sure his family could defend themselves."

Benny pulled the blade out of its sheath and marveled at its beauty. The hilt was black and wrapped with a maroon ribbon. At the base of the blade, an elegant "W" was carved to represent the Writeman name.

"Those are made of pure silver and they're ready to use. The hilt is wrapped right around the base of the blade. Sturdy and deadly as hell."

Benny and Jack began hauling the equipment back to the car as Autumn and James stood aside quietly. Most of the guns were pistols, a lot of 9mm semi-automatics, some magnums, a couple of 38 revolvers, but there were two Uzi's, as well as 12 and 20 gauge shotguns, and five AR-15s. They also found twenty small crates full of silver bullets and one crate loaded with strange-looking hand grenades.

"Those are silver shrapnel grenades," James offered. "Throw one of those babies into a group of vampires and it will explode, sending little shards of sharp silver in all directions. You'll take out a shit load of them."

"A shit load," Jack said, smiling. "Is that a calculated estimate or did you just guess?"

James let out a nerdy, wheezing laugh, "Good one."

The Writemans exchanged a comical looked and began to laugh as well.

All the weapons were loaded up and Benny noticed there were still three small crates remaining in his father's corner of the attic.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Ah," James answered, "those are a necessity when it comes to killing vampires."

Jack pried the lid off the nearest crate. "Wooden stakes. Of course."

"There's a hundred in each crate," James added. "They should last you for a while."

"I should fucking hope so," Jack mumbled.

As Benny loaded one of the crates of wooden stakes into the hearse, James turned to Autumn and studied her a moment. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but if you got a little sun you'd be a very pretty girl. I mean you're as pale as a dead…wait. Autumn! You are dead aren't you?"

"Yes, very," Autumn answered politely.

"That's right, come over here, I have something to show you."

Benny and Jack entered the room in time to hear this and the three of them followed James through his house once more. He stopped at a large bookshelf that sat against his living room wall, ran a skinny index finger along the books on the fifth shelf, and pulled an old, tattered book, the cover of which read "Contacting the Dead".

"I'm sure you've seen psychics on TV who claim they can talk to the dead," James explained as he flipped through the pages, "well, as it turns out, not all of them are con artists. According to this book, which was written by a proven psychic, there are spirits floating around on this plane of existence. Some of these spirits are lost souls who can't find their way to the realm of the dead. Others, the ones who talk to these psychics, are people who have died and left some sort of unfinished business behind from their past life, so they feel they have to take care of these things before they can move on.

"Now let me read you this quote here. 'On some rare occasions throughout documented history, spirits have been known to return to their own bodies because the need to right a wrong is so great. This phenomenon is often confused with zombification, however, it is actually called walking ghost syndrome. The walking ghosts retain all their memories and intelligence whereas zombies are merely mindless dead bodies resurrected from their graves by gifted people called necromancers. The only resemblances between the two have been some cases of superhuman strength.'"

The three men looked at Autumn.

"I was buried six feet underground," Autumn said with a shrug. "How do you think I got out?"

"So, there you go, you're a walking ghost," James finished.

Autumn turned and punched Jack in the arm.

"Ow!" Jack exclaimed, "What did you do that for?"

"Because you honestly thought I was going to eat your brain," Autumn said angrily. "Walking ghost, Jack, not zombie."

She stormed out the door and crawled into the back of the hearse.

Jack walked back to the garage, rubbing his arm and cursing under his breath the whole way. Benny thanked James and joined his wife and his brother in the hearse.

Soon they were back on the road with Jack driving, Benny riding shotgun, and Autumn squeezed in the back with an arsenal that could outfit the military for a small nation. Within minutes Autumn was knocking on the interconnecting plastic sliding window.

Jack glanced back, "I'm still mad at you for punching me in the arm."

It was a testament to Jack's fear of the dead that he had installed one of these windows in all of his hearses. The massive amounts of weed he smoked was the only way to relieve the stress his job created.

The knocks became more urgent, so Benny unlocked the tiny window and slid it back.

"What is it?" he asked.

"One of the vampires that killed me," she said, "he's in Triloville. I think he's at your Dad's building."

Frank had just finished getting dressed when he heard the door to his office open. He stepped behind his desk and turned to see a well-dressed vampire walking toward him. Behind this vampire were four menacing thugs in slightly cheaper suits. The lead vampire walked with a cane, although it was clearly for decoration. His long blond hair was draped over his shoulders, so light that it was nearly white, and his face was smooth and stern.

"Odin Sway," Frank said, "what a pleasant surprise. I suppose you've come to kill me."

"Very astute," Odin replied in a low British accent, "you are correct. I'm very sorry, Frank, I wish it hadn't come to this, but I have no choice."

The other four vampires lunged forward quickly, their faces contorting into monstrous expressions, sharp fangs bared.

Matching their speed, Frank's hand came up from his side and a 9mm pistol put a hole into the forehead of the closest vampires. He tipped the desk over and dropped behind it. One of the remaining monsters leaped over the desk and against the wall. Another shot to the head and the vampire dropped to the floor. Frank then rolled to the corner and wheeled up on one knee. The other two fiends moved fast, but frank was faster. Two more shots were fired, finding their marks in the terrifying faces of the attackers. They fell to the floor, their dead bodies now completely lifeless.

Frank leveled the gun at Odin's head.

"Very impressive," the vampire said calmly as he studied his fallen comrades. "Silver bullets I take it?"

"That's right." Frank had no idea if the creature was really impressed or if he was just being sarcastic. He had known Odin for a long time and even considered him a friend at one point, but he had never been able to read what the man was feeling. His expression never changed. No emotion was ever shown.

Odin grasped the shaft of his cane with one hand and pulled on the handle with the other to reveal a long blade. Frank had seen the cane on countless occasions, had even been allowed to study the dragon and serpent that formed the handle. When he had asked the vampire why the handle was made of silver, Odin had answered, "Keeping one's weaknesses at hand will only serve to make him stronger." The Old Man had never once suspected the cane was hiding a blade inside. He suddenly felt incredibly naïve.

"That wouldn't be the blade that killed my daughter-in-law, would it?" Frank asked, feeling blood rise to his face. Anger was a useful ally if used carefully.

"Yes," Odin said calmly, "but again, I had no choice."

"There's always a choice you sick fuck."

Frank fired the gun. The vampire was too fast. With implausible speed, Odin Sway began to jump around the room as Frank tried desperately to target him.

Finally, the vampire's feet hit the far wall and he pushed off hard toward the Old Man with his blade pulled back, yet his face still bore that same blank expression.

Frank pulled the trigger.