Karnal Muhammad Jan understood guns. His father, a member of the of the Pak Fouj 7th infantry before coming over to America, instilled in Jan a healthy respect for firearms, and their extensive use. In his store, he packed a .45 and used it once versus a robber in his store. He almost went to jail because he didn’t have the permit to carry.
One day, during prayers, Jan had a vision. He was to use his knowledge to teach others, but they would be hunting creatures of the night, supernatural beings the preyed on humans night after night, leaving bodies in dumpsters or even on people’s lawns. Gul they were called; walking corpses. He would be one of an army – but they needed to remain quiet and away from
each other after being taught.
Jan was 28 when he had his vision, and five years later he was standing, shivering, among a line of people outside of a loud goth club. One of his students had called him out the night before. “All you do is tell us what to do. You’ve never hunted in your life.”
Jan would prove to them how wrong they were. This place was already known for a gathering place for vampires, though word had passed to leave it alone. People who came to the club were fully aware that a vampire might be there and walked in with both eyes open, volunteering to be vampire dinner. Supposedly the bouncers were aware of that also and were well-prepared.
He would show them. He had two guns packed in his jacket, one at his back, and a stake in his pocket. He was dressed as goth as he could be, which was underdressed for this crowd, it seemed. He was also a little old for the group, not knowing it was a “dry night”.
The door opened and music blared. He winced, hoping no one would notice. The doorman gave him a once over and let him inside. The girl at the counter took the money, and he was inside.
Colored lights were everywhere. The music was loud, the conversation was loud, and the throng of people was crushing. He could do this.
He prayed to Allah most Merciful that he could be guided to the gul that would be in this place. He found a corner and scanned the room. He saw a man, an older man, also standing in an opposite corner, arms crossed and looking out over the crowd.
There, came a voice in his mind, and he closed his eyes thanking Allah the Gracious for His help. He tucked a hand into the pocket of his jacket and opened his eyes – the gul was gone! He scanned the room again, slightly panicked. How could he have lost him already?
“Looking for me?”
The gul was at his right, on the same side as the gun. All he needed to do was pivot and shoot, hole in the jacket be damned. Jan turned his body and pulled the trigger.
The shot wasn’t even covered by the music, and people stopped nearby. The gul had a hole in its stomach – thank Allah the Equitable for full-metal jacket ammo – that went right through his back, oozing black blood.
Someone screamed.
The gul dashed in closer, and Jan squeezed off another shot, aiming higher, intending to hit his head, but getting his chest. The gul thumped into him, throwing him to the floor. Jan did not let go of the gun, but it was pointing at himself now. He got his finger around the trigger lock in case he was forced to squeeze.
However, the gul tore his arm away from his jacket, tearing the pocket out. The gun clattered to the floor after the gul threw his arm at the stone wall. It didn’t go off.
Two other men appeared out of no where, hoisting him up. He was covered in the black blood that smelled of the grave. Jan spat at the gul, also being helped up. The gul made a motion with his head, and Jan was dragged away.
The two big men stripped him down to his underwear, leaving the weapons on a desk and throwing Jan into a couch across from it. Jan glared up at the men. “You realize you work for a devil.”
“Yeah, but he has great benefits,” said one of them. The other laughed, but they kept their eye on him.
A few minutes later the office door flew open. The gul came in, stripped to the waist, the wounds healed! He cast an eye on the weapons on the desk and then turned to Jan.
Jan cowered. He would never admit it to his people, but at that moment he felt Allah leave him, abandoning him to this creature.
“Get out,” the gul growled to the two bouncers.
The two men went out of the other side door and closed it quietly. Jan knew they did that because the gul that now stood in front of him had eyes red as blood, and exuded pure fury.
Jan had no time to utter a prayer when the gul bit into his neck savagely. He thought of it, he tried to form the words in his mind, but all he could hear was his heart beat slower, and slower, and slower…
The red rage passed, long before there was nothing left and Bomber sucked the precious last dregs of the man’s blood. He tossed the empty body onto the leather. It bounced slightly, and lay limp like a rag doll.
Bomber stood over it. If he breathed, he would have been panting. He kicked the couch and swore, “Fuck!”
He turned to the assorted weapons on the desk. A stake. Really? REALLY? He picked it up and held it loosely in his hand. He went over to the door the bouncers went out of and threw it open to see them still there on the “patio” which looked out into the VIP lounge of the club.
“Who let him in?” Bomber snarled.
The men looked at each other. “Bo,” said one man.
Bomber touched his earpiece. “Bo. Get your ass to my office now.”
He waited for a minute. Nothing happened. The two men looked uncomfortable. “Bo. Don’t make me hunt you down.”
Another voice came over the comm. “He’s gone, boss.”
Bomber tore the earpiece out of his ear in fury and threw it hard enough so that it shattered against the stone, causing feedback that made everyone wince. Without looking at the other men, he vaulted over the patio railing and headed out the back door, stake still in hand.
The two bouncers looked at each other, then at the body in the other room. They knew what they needed to do. But at least they weren’t in Bo’s shoes, and they were both glad for that.