C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation by Dustin J. Palmer Page B

grandfather.
    John stood awkwardly to the side until Cort pulled him into a hug as well. John quickly began to lose what little control he’d managed to hold onto. His eyes teared up; his shoulders lurched forward in loss and sadness. Jake had always viewed his father as a rock, the Superman of men. However, seeing him with tears in his eyes, hugging a man he hadn’t seen in seven years, Jake realized for the first time that he was human. He was just like any other son looking for the approval and support of his father. He was capable of hurting just as much as Jake was.
    “ Damn it's good to see you boys!” Cort exclaimed, patting John hard on the back. He looked down noticing Jake’s feet.  “John where is this boy's shoes at?  And where's Julia?” He looked out toward the truck as if expecting her to come walking up. “Is she okay?"
    "One question at a time, Pop.  I . . . I don't know, I honestly don't know.  They hit us. After all these years, they hit us! Julia never made it in to work and she sure didn't make it back home. All I could think to do was to get Jake out of town.  One of those bloodsucking bastards was in his room!  His room!"
    "My God in heaven," Cort said, shaking his head. "Well come in, have a seat, and tell me everything.  Jake you too," he ushered them in locking the massive gate and steel front door behind them.
    "I can't stay long, Pop.  I have to get back and try to find Julia. I just, I need you . . . I know it's a lot to ask, but can you watch Jake for a few days?"
    "Of course! But you don't have to do this alone.  Just have a seat for a few minutes, take a deep breath and tell me exactly what happened. I’ll make some calls and we’ll go from there."
    John and Jake sat down on the couch as Cort fell into a worn, but comfy looking leather recliner. John filled him in on the night’s events. When he was done, Cort slammed his fist on a side table causing Jake to jump. "Goddamn bastards!"  Cort exclaimed. "Alright head back to Midland.  I'll call Billy Williams, Ben Morris, Mike Holloway and his crew. We’ll get everyone on this.  Talon Parker should be working in Abilene today.  I'll call his motel and have him there in a couple of hours.  If anyone can find her it's him."
    "Thanks Pop," John said, getting up and heading toward the front door.
    "Johnny wait.  What's your arsenal like?"
    "I've got a twelve gauge with three boxes of buckshot."
    "Hell, boy, you're going to need a lot more than that.  Come here; let's get you geared up proper."
    Following him through the house Jake took in all the pictures hanging on the walls. There were more than a few of him as a baby, a few of his mom and dad, and one family picture of a much younger Cort with a woman he didn’t recognize, with two young boys, the oldest was clearly John, but the other Jake didn’t recognize, though he did have most of John’s features. At the end of the hall was a heavily locked door. Cort pulled a key ring from around his neck and turned several locks.  Inside was a large vault, about six feet wide by six feet long. It was lined with more guns than a sporting goods store. Large caliber pistols lined the walls on hooks. Large caliber shotguns and rifles leaned on racks against the wall. On the top shelves were hundreds upon hundreds of boxes of ammo.
    Cort pulled a large duffel bag off the shelf with the ammo and began loading it with boxes of shotgun shells and several other cartridges.  He loaded a very large pistol, spun the chamber and handed it to John who tucked it into his waistband.  Then he pulled a very long, very sharp looking machete off the wall along with a black sheath and stuffed it into the bag. Lastly, he pulled a lever action shotgun out of a case on the floor and handed it to John. " The Cleaner's  tasted more vamp blood than any other gun I know.  Let it taste a little more.”
    “ Hell yeah,” John said, gripping the gun firmly in his hands and cocking its lever action one