The earthquake, like every other one California gets hit with, hit heavy and without warning. This one much different then the little tremors or the big quake in ’89. And the big one of ’89 was around a 6.9, Collapsing the Oakland bridge and was the largest event in the United States in 37 years. People don’t realize that California is hit with earthquakes every week, small teeny-tiny ones. Bigger ones were started to rumble, and it had started making people very uneasy. It wasn’t normal. And then it hit.

The news on TV and radios were a mess. Death tolls and rescue attempts, but that’s what people on the outside heard. On the inside it was a different story. Death and fear ran high in everyone. It was hard not to miss someone who wasn’t having a panic attack.

Home was the Central Valley. Bounded by the Cascade Range to the north, the Sierra Nevada to the east, the Tehachapi Mountains to the south, and the Coast Range and San Francisco Bay to the west the earthquake had destroyed all means out of the valley. Oh sure there were ways out, if you wanted to attempt suicide.

Certain older Dams had cracked and with the pressure of the water behind them and poor care they cracked like eggshells. The rivers and canals filled until the water overran flooding farmlands and neighborhoods. It should have been worse, but the valley had been hit by the worst drought ever that previous winter. So the dried land ate up the water like it had never had any before.

But still everything seemed to be okay. Well that was until the discovery of a new cave out towards Yosemite. And soon the deaths began. Slowly at first. The valley was waiting to be reopened, to join the rest of the state once more. But then people outside, who where helping, heard of the slow deaths. And then the Central Valley had been reported quarantined. And that was the last reports any of the papers received from outside. It seemed the Valley was cut off and no one knew for how long.

Six months went by and no word, and all rescue attempts had been halted and there were rumors of dark nasty things happening in the Valley. But to the people who lived in the Valley knew the truth. And it was a war, frightened zombies by the day from lack of sleep at night. Who knew who would be next, a neighbor disappeared and next time it could be someone closer, even from the same house.

“So we are going to do this tonight?” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” Michelle said holding a rusty chain loosely in her right hand.

Elizabeth stood by the wall. “We should hunt them in the morning. When they sleep.”

Jeff looked at her. “How do you know they sleep during the day?”

“Well in books and movies,” she said.

“And those were all fictional,” Michelle said her other hand on her hip as she tossed her head.

“And so were THEY until recently,” Elizabeth said.

“Come on they’re coming,” Jeff said.

“Maybe we should wait for Raymond,” Elizabeth said.

“His loss,” he said leaving the room walking out into the black night. The only lights around were silent streetlights and the full moon. They followed him out. Some other people joined them leaving the darkness of their houses. They were going to fight, or die protecting their families.

She sat on the Statue in the middle of the square. Her skin a bright alabaster in the dark night. The light of the moon seemed to make her glow. She was deeply immersed in History for Dummies. She chuckled every so often, and said, “Huh, so that’s what happened to her or him.”

The mob of people stopped before the statue. Jeff taking lead with Michelle. She looked up her eyes red and serpentine. “Can you believe poor Joan of Ark. I told her all that, and they said it was god. Fucking hypocrites. A woman could never get ahead back then, and if they did it was because of GOD. And look they burnt her! And what’s with Columbus finding America? It was my blood line that discovered America. And yet I see nothing of any of my people in here,” she stopped and looked at the crowed.

“Friends,” she said. “Enough for a party.” She turned her head to one of her pee-ons. Not quite human, but not fully turned. “Are you up for a party?”

He undid the cap off the small plastic tube he held and pulled out a plastic want with is thumb and point finger he brought it to his mouth and blew at it. Making bubbles. Her eyes lit up as they trailed the bubble, and she clapped.

“A party, yes, yes.”

“We aren’t here for a party,” Jeff said.

She threw the book to the ground. “Of course not. I know a lynching party when I see one. Trust me, young mortals I have been the reason for many lynch mobs.” She jumped from the top of the statue. “I advise you to run home. In time me and mine will visit you in your sleep, or while you are huddled in the corner fearing the dark as it approaches and everyone you love is dead or dying.”

“We’re not going away.” Jeff said and an unsure murmur went through the crowd.

“Fine. Let us play.” She turned facing the dark. “Children come play with me,” she said into the dark.

Michelle gripped the rusty chain tight as she watched. And then there were noises, but outside in the dark around them. Chuckles and catcalls. She wondered how many of them she had turned, or just how many had been turned.

“Stupid mortals,” she said turning back to them. “You have no idea what you are messing with.” And with a speed unlike anything she grabbed one of the people from the crowed. She held him about two inches off the ground with ease. He looked around, choking, his eyes pleading for help. “Watch what you are messing with.” Her voice ended with a growl, and her face changed into something demonic. Her mouth grew bigger, and with her quick motion she bit into his neck. She ripped off his flesh and ate it while they watched. The man’s blood ran down her chin and instead of dropping him to the ground. She bit back into his neck. The crowd could hear a terribly slurping as she drained his blood.

She discarded his body like an empty wrapper. And while facing the crowd her serpentine tongue rolled from her mouth and licked the fresh blood from her face. “See mortals, you are messing with a GOD.” She raised her arms into the night, her face back to superb beauty. “Let us play.”

The dark beings advanced in on the mob. You could hear screams of pain and hunger over a mile away. Raymond turned his head listening, as he worked on the old lawnmower. He stood quickly. They said they would wait until he came. They had went on and did it without him. “Elizabeth,” he said in a whisper.

****

It had taken him three months to hunt down the Bitch’s resting spot. She had Elizabeth, ‘cause when he got to the blood bath, her had found Jeff and Michelle. Jeff was gutted like a fish, and Elizabeth had been hung from the town statue by her own rusted chain.

****

He had visited his grandmother, a witch woman, people have called her. And she never denied their remarks. But until he was old enough, he was never allowed to know what she did. His mother had hated her own mother, and what the old woman did. But he needed help, and all he could think of was his grandmother.

He visited her one bright morning. She was sitting by a basket of cloths, her sewing kit on her lap, as she mended a pair of pants. She looked up at him with a smile. “Good morning Raymond.”

“Good morning grandmother. I need your help.”

She put the pants down and removed the sewing kit from her lap as she got to her feet using her wooden cane. She went to her table, and motioned for him to follow. “I do not do much my child, but I can perhaps tell you what you need.

She sat down and unfolded her tarot deck from the black silken scarf she kept them in. Her mangled old hands shuffled the cards with great ease. He watched her fascinated. He had never been to one of her reading, or never had her do a reading for him. His mother had not allowed it, but he was over eighteen now.

She put the deck in the middle of the table. “Cut the cards.” He cut them three times, and she put them together and knocked on the top card three times. She then laid down three cards.

***

He had been led here. To the old bank. He tried the door and it wouldn’t budge. Just then something hard hit him squarely on the head. He looked up at the overcast sky and saw it had started to hail. “Just my luck, a storm in fucking July.”

He had used his body to hit against the door, and it wouldn’t budge as he was being bluggend by the hail. He ran to the side of the building. The roof gave him some protection, and it was there he found a broken window. He climbed inside, and pulled out his flashlight, flicking it on. He was in a small messy office. His flash light stopped on an old calendar. It was at least five years old, and the picture was faded beyond seeing.

He left the room which led into the bigger open part of the bank. He stopped listening. Could his grandmother be right? It felt as if this place was just dead, a place for kids to get drunk away from prying eyes.

It was then he noticed the movement all around him. And then they advanced on him. People, yet not people. Their skin a dead pasty color, their eyes had no pigment. They had to be dead. They came for him slowly, but they all seemed drawn to him, like they were moths and he was a flame. She had said that the Bitch had dead followers.

“Thank god for horror movies,” he said and took his Colt from his pants. It had been his dad’s gun, and he had got it from his dad’s will after he died of cancer. His dad used to take him shooting, so he knew how to use it.

He shot the dead things in the head. There were only five. He made his way to the stairs they were in the basement. He was here to kill Her. He had to kill Her. He was going to were the bank vault was. He had taken a tour of the bank when he was in third grade, a few years later something happened that closed the place down.

He almost tripped over something as he walked down. He looked down, and thought it was a giant rat, and before he could sort of freak out, he noticed it was a wig. He picked it up, and then noticed that it wasn’t really a wig. It was someone’s hair. He dropped it. Gross.

He moved down the rest of the stairs faster. He reached the bottom and tons of dead bodies. But these must her children. They didn’t wake as he moved through them.

***

“You need salt,” his grandmother said handing him the salt container.

“Why salt?”

She looked at him. “If you find yourself surrounded you can make a magickal circle of salt around you. It should keep out all evil beings.” He took the salt and put it away.

***

His hand was on the pocket of salt. His mind going back to what his grandmother had said about the tarot reading. Something has changed and the cards wouldn’t tell her what. What had changed? He entered the room were the vault was and stood there stunned. There was Elizabeth tied to a giant dartboard on the wall.

He went to her. “Lizzy?” he whispered.

She gave him a small moan. She looked so pale, so unlike herself. He touched her forehead and her skin was clammy under his touch. “Don’t worry Lizzy. I’ll get you out of here.”

There came a clapping from behind him. “Nice show,” the vampire queen said still clapping. “I’ve watched you for a while. What love will do, makes mortal men heroes. Does it not my Liz?”

He turned to Elizabeth and she was now wide awake smiling at him. “Hello Raymond. I’ve been waiting for you. You are going to be my first real kill. She said it would be much better if my first kill is someone I love.

The change, he thought, and sighed. Around him the other vampires started to rise. He wasn’t going to make it out of there alive. He knew that.

***

“What’s that card, Grandmother?” he asked pointing.

“It is nothing,” she said quickly.

“It is something and it scared you.”

“It is the death card. But it doesn’t necessarily mean death. But.”

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

***

It had meant my death. That’s what scared her. He pulled the salt from his pocket and made a circle around him and Elizabeth. The vampire queen looked at him smirking as he finished.

“And that is supposed to keep me out? Salt? I will rub you in it and then eat your throat boy,” she said laughing.

“I did it to distract you.”

“From what?”

“This.” He pulled out a can of bug spray and flipped open his zippo. The flames hit the Queen, and he moved it to the right were her children growled hitting them with the flame. They were aflame pushing and shoving. And soon the walls were on fire. Elizabeth was on him. He looked up at his once lovely girlfriend.

“You hurt her, how dare you,” she snapped.

“I would have done anything for you,” he said.

There was a puzzlement in her eyes then what looked like pain, and then realization of what he did. He rolled her off him. Her hands clawed at the wooden stake in her chest.

The queen burnt and pissed looked down at her new fledgling. She was quite as she watched the human, her body shook with rage. She let out a loud scream/growl and pounced the human boy. She plunged her fists into his chest working her way to heart. He spat blood in her face cursing her.

She gave his heart a yank, and ripped it from his chest. Just as the first floor fell in. A few of the broken flaming beams came at her as she ate his heart. They pushed through her body one pushing her own heart out. She looked down at the beam through her chest, and at the end where her heart was.

“What irony,” she said right before her body caught on fire.