"No Shelter" (standard:horror, 2294 words)
Author: Straybullet	Added: May 11 2007	Views/Reads: 3246/2186	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I came up with this when I lived in Tucson. Let me know what you think

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


"Lets take him in Jeff." and they each support me under my arms.
Involuntarily I begin to convulse, my muscles a riot of spasms. I kick 
the ground wildly as I am dragged to the entrance. Someone grabs my 
hair and forces my head up. It hurts to open my eyes yet I force them 
open, before me someone has painted a yellow crucifix on a large slab 
of steel. Satisfied I am pulled into this refuge. Before I lose 
consciousness I hear the snap of the yellow banner being played by the 
wind. 

2 

Outside of my mind the world drags itself on much as it always has.
There is so much between sunup and sundown the grief for the dead, the 
battles over turf, the hopeless prayers of the yet to die. I cannot 
bring myself to fully sleep. In this world I have adapted to rest and 
gather my strength, I remain alert enough listening for bad intentions. 
I am never allowed to dream. Dimly I sense the comings and goings of 
people, a child wanders nearby inquisitively only to be snatched away 
by its mother. Paranoia has saved many a life. Eventually a small group 
approaches me quietly. 

"Said he's heading south." says a male voice. I slit my eyes just
enough. There is the gray haired man I had talked with earlier standing 
along side an older woman and an adolescent woman of about nineteen. 

"We can't let him leave," she speaks leaning toward the gray haired man.
"he's got a duty to perform." She punctuates this indicating the 
younger woman who nods silent agreement. Procreation is the new 
currency in these tribes, the human race must move on though I do not 
intend to pay this debt at all. 

"By the looks of 'im he ain't goin' no where soon." says gray hair. 

A voice from behind me says "I don't see how he even got here." I take
this one to be the behemoth with the Hooters shirt. 

"Well, it seems as though they moved on."    They.   My heart leapt at
this and I had to muster considerable restraint not to spring up and 
question. I listened to their hushed council around me for quite a 
time. They spoke on other tribes in Casa Grande and Nogales to the 
south, from whom they'd heard a rumor about a clan in Mexico City 
trying to get in contact with Europe. They were building a boat. 
Another bombshell! Eventually I would have to return there to Portugal 
to wake the others if they still existed. 

Hours went until I brought myself out of my slumber. By then the place
had begun to stink with the closeness of man. A storm was howling 
outside. A fierce wind began furiously throwing itself against the 
walls of the shelter. Before me sat a table upon which laid a bowl of 
dried coyote meat and a pitcher of water. No one offered it to me as I 
stood. I counted twelve people all of whom were silent save for an 
elderly woman huddled near the sealed entrance rocking back and forth 
praying the rosary. Her spoken S's echoed hauntingly. Immediately I 
scanned for the weapons and could not find them. The two men that drug 
me inside sat nearest me but I could sense they perceived me to be no 
threat. A young girl of about eight with a bandage covering her left 
eye and her brother sat idly in a corner drawing pictures in a 
notebook. Someone had opened a can of vegetables and began spooning 
them into their mouth. I rested the pitcher on my lip and pretended to 
drink. 

"Do you feel like you can work tomorrow Jacob?" came a question from the
gray haired man. 

"I feel good." I replied stretching the muscles of my body. A restless
energy gathered inside me. I sauntered around seemingly aimlessly for a 
few minutes testing my legs and senses. Quietly I approached the 
elderly woman by the door. Through a slat in the door I could see 
rocks, tumbleweed and other debris tossed by the storm. The elderly 
woman rocked ever more furiously mouthing prayers to her savior. 	When 
I had gotten within a few feet from her she stopped and simply locked 
eyes with me. I was close to the door and that made everybody nervous. 
I could smell alarm seeping through their pores. My senses were near 
full and I was strong again. I believe the old woman may have had a 
gift. It happens in humans every so often. It is rare but some know 
things before they happen. Whether she had this gift of precognition I 
don't know but aside from me, her eyes were the only ones that seemed 
to know I was about to change. 

How can I explain the change when I haven't seen it myself? The mirror
offers me no reflection; the humans would do good to know this. A 
mirror is a better safeguard than any silly crucifix. All I know of the 
change is what I've seen in others. First it is the eyes that flash. 
Then the fingers and nails harden and elongate. These I use to tear out 
her throat. Lastly it is the incisors that stretch themselves longer 
and sharper than any man's ever could. It is the last tool of our kind. 
The surest sign that we are predators. These are the only visible 
characteristics but there are many more differences that separate us 
from the human cattle. How I loathe mortals. If the council had acted 
as I suggested following the plague we would rule over them now. 
Instead they were left to rebuild their numbers so much that our very 
presence threatened our existence. Our kind fled the villages we once 
lorded over. We were left to hide in shadows, to cower in caves. The 
council would hide and sleep until our history faded into myth. Only a 
few of us, myself among them were left awake. Through centuries we have 
drifted along like leaves on the wind. We were left to keep our hidden 
vigil and to awaken the others if the human population were to befall 
such a catastrophe to sufficiently dwindle their numbers. Long have I 
hunted alleyways and byroads running from the very species I should be 
holding sway over! 

I bury my face into the wound of the old woman and drink deeply. It
takes them a minute to react but there is nothing to they can do. 
Nothing is said between the wolf and the sheep. A world war has quelled 
much of mankind's thirst for vengeance. The woman is no more and in 
trying to kill me most of them are sure to fall. It would be foolish 
for them to try and harm me. I clutch her body feeling the satisfying 
crack of bones within her. Dead eyes stare skyward as her life feeds 
me. Rosary beads hit the floor and roll into her blood. How poetic it 
is. The blood pushes itself through out my body like liquid fire. 
Euphoria! As I drink I lock my eyes on those of the young boy. He is 
the future of mankind and he is weak. My mind catches his and I watch 
his lips move to my words. 

"I will feast on your descendants. You will know me as master." The boy
says through his small mouth. I gorge myself with the blood I had been 
deprived of for so long. I want to close my eyes, to bathe in it as I 
once did centuries ago. Warmth. Exctasy. Instead I fling her body to 
the floor and peel the door from its frame. It gives with a metallic 
scream. In comes the fury of the storm. The yellow crucifix catches my 
eye and I claw it. 

"There is no shelter." I project thoughts to them. "No savior, there is
nothing left for you except for the time we will come for you and time, 
as you well know, is on our side." 

I depart into the night and the frenzied wind leaving the humans with
nightmares and a dead elder. Somewhere a call has been taken up by the 
coyotes. The animals, whether it be the mad dogs that haunt the 
American West or the cackling song of hyenas that roam Serengeti, they 
know there is no shelter and they, like me, revel in it. A new 
certainty will forge itself on human history. You will not just die, 
you will be eaten. Rain pours over me matting my clothes to my body. My 
outstretched arms catch a southward bound gust of wind and I take 
flight. I glide soundlessly along the current of the storm. I now know 
of two things that need my attention. I know of  "they" and of Mexico 
City. 


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