apartment.
Mr. Obvious was about six foot, dressed in dark brown jeans and a loose jacket. The jacket would be to hide his gun. He’d walked up the street behind me and followed me across, lingering a couple of stores away. His head jerked around when I started walking again, and he followed immediately.
After passing the entrance to the parking garage, I turned into a side alley, getting out of his line of sight, and sprinted away, thanking the stars for my backpack with my nice, big gun in it.
I wasn’t intending to outrun him, even though I probably could, so I ducked behind a dumpster and got the Heckler Koch out. The safety snicked off and I strained my ears to hear the sound of his footsteps following. What had he been wearing on his feet? Running shoes? Boots? It was a stupid, rookie mistake to miss that.
The alley was formed by the tall brick backs of offices and apartments. It was used for deliveries and services, and was punctuated with rolling steel doors. Few ordinary doors and almost no windows opened on the alley. It was dark, and the occasional spotlights over delivery doors only served to make the shadows deeper. With all that featureless brick, it should have had great acoustics.
I strained to hear. Out on the main street a car door slammed. A motor started. Traffic noises seeped in. Then someone close by grunted loudly, as if in pain. I came around the dumpster in a crouch with a double-handed grip on the gun, sighting back up the alley.
Mr. Obvious was lying face down on the ground, unmoving, one arm broken. His jacket was half torn off and a pair of even bigger guys were standing over him. One was taking his pistol and the other was looking down the alley at me. Not police. My skin prickled and out of old habit I gave them target names. Fang 1 and Fang 2 seemed appropriate. They were dressed in matching black suits, for God’s sake.
I clamped down on the hysterical giggle that followed the rush of adrenaline. The different groups on my tail were fighting over me and the two vampires stuck out, like, well, like black suits in summer in Denver. In daylight I’d have been able to pick them out across a quarter mile of city. They’d only been able to tail me by tailing my tail.
They walked slowly towards me. Fang 1 had Mr. Obvious’s gun held out between finger and thumb in front of him. That’s not to say he didn’t have a slick move where he whipped it up and fired, all in a heartbeat, but he seemed to be trying to make it clear that he wasn’t going to shoot me. I let them come. I was pretty sure that these guys were representatives of the local vampire community and that dictated that I treat them with a certain respect unless they gave cause for anything else.
At twenty yards, I spoke. “That’s far enough, gentlemen.”
I hadn’t put my gun down and whereas it wasn’t quite aiming at either one of them, it was close enough. They stopped. My nose prickled with the copper scent of vampire, overlaid with something sweet. Cinnamon?
I jerked my head at the guy lying behind them. “Thanks for that, I guess. How is he?”
“He’s unconscious,” said Fang 1. “I’m going to unload his gun and throw it in the trash, okay?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off either of them. I watched him strip the magazine slowly and carefully, clear the chamber and toss everything into the dumpster.
They glared at the HK in my hands, but hey, I didn’t ask them to toss the gun. I wasn’t going to shoot them if they weren’t armed, but I didn’t want them to know that.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” I said slowly, “I have just had the pleasure of being saved by two of Denver’s very own fang-dangling vampires.”
They didn’t smile. Maybe the gun ruined their sense of humor. Maybe a vampire’s smile shows the fangs and means something else.
“You’re coming with us,” said Fang 2.
“The old ‘resistance is futile’ line, eh?” I sighed. “Gentlemen, thank you for your help this
Mr. Obvious was about six foot, dressed in dark brown jeans and a loose jacket. The jacket would be to hide his gun. He’d walked up the street behind me and followed me across, lingering a couple of stores away. His head jerked around when I started walking again, and he followed immediately.
After passing the entrance to the parking garage, I turned into a side alley, getting out of his line of sight, and sprinted away, thanking the stars for my backpack with my nice, big gun in it.
I wasn’t intending to outrun him, even though I probably could, so I ducked behind a dumpster and got the Heckler Koch out. The safety snicked off and I strained my ears to hear the sound of his footsteps following. What had he been wearing on his feet? Running shoes? Boots? It was a stupid, rookie mistake to miss that.
The alley was formed by the tall brick backs of offices and apartments. It was used for deliveries and services, and was punctuated with rolling steel doors. Few ordinary doors and almost no windows opened on the alley. It was dark, and the occasional spotlights over delivery doors only served to make the shadows deeper. With all that featureless brick, it should have had great acoustics.
I strained to hear. Out on the main street a car door slammed. A motor started. Traffic noises seeped in. Then someone close by grunted loudly, as if in pain. I came around the dumpster in a crouch with a double-handed grip on the gun, sighting back up the alley.
Mr. Obvious was lying face down on the ground, unmoving, one arm broken. His jacket was half torn off and a pair of even bigger guys were standing over him. One was taking his pistol and the other was looking down the alley at me. Not police. My skin prickled and out of old habit I gave them target names. Fang 1 and Fang 2 seemed appropriate. They were dressed in matching black suits, for God’s sake.
I clamped down on the hysterical giggle that followed the rush of adrenaline. The different groups on my tail were fighting over me and the two vampires stuck out, like, well, like black suits in summer in Denver. In daylight I’d have been able to pick them out across a quarter mile of city. They’d only been able to tail me by tailing my tail.
They walked slowly towards me. Fang 1 had Mr. Obvious’s gun held out between finger and thumb in front of him. That’s not to say he didn’t have a slick move where he whipped it up and fired, all in a heartbeat, but he seemed to be trying to make it clear that he wasn’t going to shoot me. I let them come. I was pretty sure that these guys were representatives of the local vampire community and that dictated that I treat them with a certain respect unless they gave cause for anything else.
At twenty yards, I spoke. “That’s far enough, gentlemen.”
I hadn’t put my gun down and whereas it wasn’t quite aiming at either one of them, it was close enough. They stopped. My nose prickled with the copper scent of vampire, overlaid with something sweet. Cinnamon?
I jerked my head at the guy lying behind them. “Thanks for that, I guess. How is he?”
“He’s unconscious,” said Fang 1. “I’m going to unload his gun and throw it in the trash, okay?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off either of them. I watched him strip the magazine slowly and carefully, clear the chamber and toss everything into the dumpster.
They glared at the HK in my hands, but hey, I didn’t ask them to toss the gun. I wasn’t going to shoot them if they weren’t armed, but I didn’t want them to know that.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” I said slowly, “I have just had the pleasure of being saved by two of Denver’s very own fang-dangling vampires.”
They didn’t smile. Maybe the gun ruined their sense of humor. Maybe a vampire’s smile shows the fangs and means something else.
“You’re coming with us,” said Fang 2.
“The old ‘resistance is futile’ line, eh?” I sighed. “Gentlemen, thank you for your help this
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