|The Vampire Autistic
Author: OffTopic1984 PM
To be autistic is to be an outsider within society, and to be a vampire in a world where religion which either ignores or condemns you is equally isolating and frightening. To be both a vampire and autistic is unheard of and confusing. For Amelia Converse, she just wants to belong to a community where she can be herself. Especially when you are adopted.Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Family - Chapters: 3 - Words: 4,996 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 12-07-12 - Published: 11-24-12 - id: 3077223
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Vampire Autustic
Written by: Lea Fiddick
Prologue: October 1984
Bellwood Parish was always sticky and dank as October crawled north towards the state border with Arkansas. It was overcast and cool when then macaroni bus from Divine Savior Holy Tabernacle veered down the road at a breakneck pace, the two dozen youth members screeching in excitement or dread as the pastor Greg Newmann gazed out onto the scenery. So much hinged on this trip, he tapped his fingers in annoyance when then bus lurched suddenly behind a fleet of trailers left the rest stop.
Someone tapped him from behind and Greg spun around, letting out a hiss and knocking the assailant to the ground. Whimpering, the boy gasped, "Rev, Rev Greg! Are we there yet?" Newmann growled as his pinprick eyes flickered over the fallen boy. His bowl cut hair fell unevenly around his sandpaper complexion, his denim overalls torn from the odd jobs at church. The body was rigid and the face held a vapid grin indicating the bearer had no idea of what was going on.
Newmann announced, "Listen to me, all of you. We are not there yet. Sit down and shut up!" Leaving the boy unattended, he wove in between the truckers and was soon hitting top speed once again. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg noted two girls with Down Syndrome helping their mentally challenged classmate into an empty seat. The girls signaled for the youth to stay quiet and he did so. Silently relieved, Greg smiled darkly as he continued down the road.
As the pastor of an influential Evangelist Church, it had been no problem to convince the flock the need to take their mentally retarded youth out into the community to do Christ's work. As it was, the parish had very little in the way of vocational training and education aside from self-contained classrooms and in-home care. The reigning attitude that they were to be pitied and protected, but most local businesses took this to mean that the disabled were nothing more than cheap labor to do with however they pleased. After all, the disabled never complained and could be disciplined with threats and the occasional beating.
The twenty-four youth members had been specifically chosen by Reverend Newmann because they were eager to please, followed directions when ordered and best of all were viewed by his congregants as disgusting parasites unworthy of Christ's abiding love. Nobody would admit it out loud; keeping up appearances was ingrained in Bellwood's psyche.
Moonrise hit and stomach growls could be heard throughout the entire bus. The road had gotten foggy by now and Greg had been forced to pull of to get fast food. Ungrateful little retarded shits, eat like hogs. Once this little job is over, all of you will rot for your sins and our community will be purged of a great plague, he thought as he careened around another corner onto a dirt road. Soon, it would all be over.
The night dragged on and the teenagers had already fallen asleep despite Reverend Newmann's insistence they all remain alert. A dull thud thrust them all forward onto the plastic covered floor. Cries of pain, anxiety and apprehension rang out when Greg blared the horn and the chattering ceased. Smiling brightly at them, he crooned, "All right boys and girls, we are all here. I am going to tell you something very important, we are coming to a village where people worship Satan! Yes, that's right children, we have unclean demons living among us. I want you to take these Jesus-Fires and kill the demons. Jesus will be happy for you are doing his work- casting out demons in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ? They will not be saved, and even if they beg you stop, don't! They are lying, and lying is a sin is it not?" Trembling with anger and fear, the youths nodded eagerly and shouted their allegiance to Jesus Christ and vowed to do His work. Pointing down a winding trail, he shouted an order and off they went.
Making their way down the path, the energized crowd of youngsters stumbled across a most horrible sight; clusters of small, two level brick houses surrounded by well-kept gardens with locals sitting on front porches, drinking iced-tea and reading books! How dare these demons assume human form in order to corrupt them from the way of Christ! Battle cries roared out as the hunt commenced. Even as locals took cover, the frenzied group dragged them out and shot their guns. As expected, bullets struck locals and attackers alike. Hysteria fed upon itself as survivors attempted escape but Greg figured this would happen.
Perched in a clearing overlooking the hamlet, Greg smiled at his handy work. The locals attempted to calm down the sprawling bloodbath, but they were soon struck down by flying flames as Molotov cocktails splattered all over the rooftops. Loud crunches trumpeted certain victory as trees blocked the streets. Fear overtook the locals and as they fled for the woods, they were assaulted with a hurricane of game pellets. By now, the surviving attack party had begun to look for a way out and no matter how they tried, they were engulfed in flames. Soon, the whole area was an inferno!
Laughing in glee, Greg Newmann threw rocks at the survivors making their way up towards him. One of them, a youth not yet fifteen yelled, "Rev Greg, we did it!" Smiling, Greg turned his hunting rifle and shot the boy at point blank range. Bone, tissue and blood spattered everywhere as the corpse rolled down, taking with it the dying survivors. Ten more minutes of shooting took care of the stragglers, and at last Greg Newmann put down his gun and pulled out a can of beer.
Sitting down in the open trunk of his van, he surveyed his results in great pride. At the bottom of the rise was a tangled mass of charred remains soaked in blood and other bodily fluids. The bucolic village was now a smoldering fireball and there were no survivors. Laughing, he toasted himself and shouted to the moon, "The unrepentant shall be thrown into the pit! Jesus, I have done your bidding! Truly, I am blessed by the Holy Spirit to purge Bellwood Parish of this filth." He finished his beer, when he heard the snap of a large twig. Grumbling, he picked up his night vision goggles when he stomach churned in disbelief and horror. Making their way towards the interstate was a fair skinned woman with dark hair cradling a newborn in her arms. Survivors, how dare they escape!
Muttering about how he had to finish everything, Greg grabbed his gun and scrambled down the ivy encrusted slope and galloped over dead logs before catching up to them. The woman apparently had abandoned her infant, and he smirked. Cocking his gun, he shot three bullets and the woman fell into the rotting leaves, her eyes teary and full of confusion. Smashing her face with his boots, Greg craned his head when he heard the squeals of a newborn infant.
Following the sound, he saw that the newborn had been left at a rural bus stop. This would be all too easy, and as he approached a grey pickup truck pulled over, and a leather clad man with a beard leapt from the backseat and into the heather. Glowering, Greg watched from the shadows as the biker relieved himself before stumbling across the baby. His jaw slacked in disbelief as the biker cooed over the infant and called back to the truck. A man and a woman joined him and while cooing over the baby, they called out for anybody around when a torrent of rain doused them. With the baby safely in tow, they sped off and Greg darted off towards his van.
Driving away from the burnt ruins, he groaned loudly. His plan had been perfect, destroying the heathen village with the despised congregants nobody truly cared about was killing two demons with one cross. How was it then that the baby escaped? Speeding back towards his office, part of him was glad the night was over. The youths would not be missed, and if there was an inquiry nobody would say anything. On the other hand, he was angry because the baby that had been rescued was no mere adorable newborn, she was half-vampire. Vampires existed all right; they always had.
To be honest, he had no real proof that the villagers were vampires, but a chance encounter with one had led him to tonight. He smiled, he would find the infant and he would kill her. If not now then one day, God and time were on his side.