Wild

From the perspective of Jeriah Van Dyke.

Wild. That's what I am. I'm also a little offbeat, deadbeat, reckless, savage, supremely cunning, and manipulative as fuck. Test me.

I was already inebriated by cherry moonshine in the first hour of being at the festival. I was in a 2031 Dodge Challenger doing donuts in a dark, dimly lit, abandoned parking lot in East St. Louis with three others. Elizabeth Warren, the woman in the passenger seat--my new girlfriend--claimed the vehicle.

The four of us in the Dodge Challenger were the rejects, the outcasts, the despised. We were all fucked up. Literally, and figuratively. The radio blasted Limp Bizkit, and I felt like I was Superman on steroids. The two adult male Prometheans in the back were so bloody hammered they were both shouting incoherent slurs over the music, trying to see who was loudest.

"Jeriah!" Elizabeth yelled, infuriated. "Let the boys in the back out so they can have their screaming match elsewhere!"

"Sure! I can do that!" I yelled back.

I stopped the music, I released my feet from the gas and the brake pedals, the Dodge Challenger halted abruptly, and all of our heads bobbed violently to the left. I then shot off the engine.

"Hey! Why'd you stop?" Backseat passenger guy number one asked.

"Yeah! Why did ya' stop? We were having fun." Backseat passenger guy number two added.

Without thinking, I thundered, "We're stopping 'cause you idiots are having a shouting match over Limp Bizkit on max volume! Get the fuck out!"

"But we were having so much fun!" Backseat passenger guy number two shouted back.

I roared at the top of my lungs, "GET OUT!" I bared my fangs at the unwelcome passengers in the back. The two passengers then jumped out of the Dodge Challenger and began to run, leaving Elizabeth and I to our fun.

Twenty seconds into our makeout session we were interrupted. Elizabeth, curious, asked, "What's wrong, Jeriah?"

I replied, "We have company, dear." I pointed at the obscure horde of a hundred or more Flesheaters with glaring yellow eyes, all lined up side by side, all eerily staring at the two of us inside the Dodge Challenger. The Flesheaters were blocking the entrance and the exit to the parking lot. "It's those Godforsaken cannibalistic Flesheaters from St. Louis. They followed me and my friends. Elizabeth. Sweetheart. I'm so sorry. We need to go. There's no time to waste."

I attempted to turn on the engine. No dice. I tried again. Still, the engine stalled. Elizabeth was beginning to panic and curse at me. Before I could figure out a plan of escape, a bright, paralyzing light emanated from the edge of the parking lot, wrecking my vision. Then another, and another, until the whole parking lot was bathed in intense white light. We were now completely surrounded by cannibalistic vampires with nowhere to run.

Then we heard him, the leader of the Flesheaters.

Orrus bellowed over a microphone, "Out of the vehicle, fuckers. Don't make this hard for you. Both of you, come out, and surrender, and no one has to be harmed."

I didn't believe for a second what Orrus was saying was true. He already killed me once, so I kept my guard on high alert.

I stepped out of the vehicle, along with Elizabeth, who, at first was hesitant, then soon realized there was no alternative. We both slammed the car doors shut and walked to the front of the car, standing side by side.

"Good, good. You guys can follow directions." The microphone crackled, the speakers blared. "Now, I'm gonna need you guys to put your hands behind your head and kneel on the ground, then I want you both to wait patiently. Crow, hand me a shotgun, pretty please."

The subordinate easily produced a shotgun from the bed of a pickup truck, tossing it to Orrus without protest.

I pleaded with Orrus, for Elizabeth's sake. "Orrus, there's no call for this kind of violence. This nice young witch Elizabeth, she's my girlfriend. She's the best. She is very talented, and very beautiful. Maybe she could--"

"I'm not interested," Orrus interjected. He then checked to see if the shotgun was loaded. "I just want to hear the sound of your girlfriend's brains splattering concrete." Orrus sneered as he pointed the shotgun toward Elizabeth like she was cattle. I was petrified, unable to move, unable to speak. Despite Elizabeth's sobbing and tearful red, puffy eyes, Orrus was not one to change his mind. He was a downright psychopathic killer.

I shouted at the top of my lungs, "Elizabeth, I love you!" Except I really didn't love her. Or did I? Maybe I was just in love with her body. Her personality was nice, too, but I was not actually in love. I should have done everything in my power to save her. But I was a coward. "I love you too, Jeriah!" Elizabeth's final words rang like a bell in my head, over and over. She actually had feelings for me. She gave a damn about me. I began to genuinely cry for the first time in years. I sobbed, and I began to hyperventilate in a panic attack. "Elizabeth! I'm sorry! Forgive me!"

Click. Boom. Splat.

My whole world, for a moment, was in chaos. I couldn't believe what happened. It was all so quick. I shuttered. I broke down. I sobbed like a baby. Elizabeth--she was gone. I had only known her for what? Two hours? I was so friggin' excited over the prospect of our blooming relationship. But Elizabeth was taken from me abruptly, and so my heart sank into a deep abyss.

Orrus chuckled while rolling Elizabeth's corpse over with his boot. I couldn't stand it, the pain of a loved one disappearing forever. I became enraged, consumed by the raw emotions inside, and the hate and bitterness I felt toward Orrus. I wanted to rip his black heart out and throw it on the ground and stomp on it.

"You just had to kill her! You already had Milton killed! Now this? I will destroy you and your entire gang for what you did! The Flesheaters will be extinct before sunrise!" I shouted at Orrus with a passion for revenge.

"Such big promises for such a tiny, wimpy fledgling. I think I will eat your liver tonight as you stay alive to witness me eating a part of you."

I was livid, my pupils dilated, my blood vessels widening, my razor-sharp canines revealing themselves. "You son of a bitch! You and your goons will all pay!" I shouted, bloodlust behind my voice. Before I could rise I was immediately restrained by two Flesheaters.

"Do your worst." Orrus shrugged off my threat totally unaffected, emotionless, steadfast.

What was I thinking? I alone was powerless to seek revenge, to destroy the Flesheaters. I needed help. I was determined to get it, soon enough.

Orrus turned to Micah and said, "Don't bother grabbing Jeriah for me. I have a festival to ruin, and you get to be your own man, tonight. You will control B-Squad. You will guide them and oversee them. See to it that B-Squad gets behind the Prometheans and the three other vampires that we will be targeting for extraction. If extraction proves too impractical, then it's up to you to squash any resistance. Don't fail me, brother. It would be a shame if you disappointed Count Jaeger."

Micah appeared uneasy and doubtful for one who, as I seem to remember, likes to take orders from a psychopathic killer. He stood like a somber statue among his brethren. He turned to look at me, the yellow orb behind his eyepatch glowing faintly, his long jet-black hair swaying in the chill night breeze. Then he turned to walk away, completely silent.

I was hauled away by two great big strongmen strapped head to toe in black leather. As I was being hauled away, surrounded on all sides by A-Squad, I felt puny and insignificant, almost wishing for death rather than enduring my dark fate that lay ahead.