Killers at Sundown

By Sara Fears

Damien is a loner who doesn't know his neighbors or his co-workers...He likes it that way because he is a serial killer. But when his lone friend comes to his apartment to tell him he is being chased by a female vampire, his life turns upside down. He then puts his serial killing skills to the test by trying to kill this vampire who is just as bloodthirsty as he is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trellis Publishing
• Release date: Jul 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201666170

Book preview

KILLERS AT SUNDOWN

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SARA FEARS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

KILLERS AT SUNDOWN

TRAILER PARK EVIL

KILLING VAN HELSING

POST MORTEM THOUGHTS

THE KIDNAP CLUB

The crisp late morning air gave him a euphoric thrill every time he walked home. The silence was beautiful to him in every way. There was almost no one on the streets at three in the morning. Most hookers knew better than to walk the corners in his neighborhood. Occasionally a junkie would wander around, but they usually weren’t much trouble, and never really took notice of him. Police cars never patrolled this particular area, mostly because it was a dead part of the town. Not much ever happened in the area, and that was why he’d chosen it in the first place.

He closed the door to his apartment quietly, careful not to make a sound. It wasn’t that he had anyone to wake up, aside from neighbors, but he took great pride in his stealth. It had been a skill he had proudly developed over the course of his reign. He meticulously plotted every movement, as well every possible interruption. He cursed himself in his head if he happened to slip up, or make the slightest unintentional noise. Coughing and sneezing were inexcusable under any circumstances. Not only did they produce noise, but also DNA.

He pulled down the hood of his black hoodie and unzipped it before tossing it onto the beat-up sofa he’d picked up off the side of the road. Sure, it was a safe bet that it had bugs, but he didn’t really care. His apartment was basically a shit hole anyway. The whole building was barely attended to, and he almost never saw his neighbors. When he did see them, it was just a casual nod and slight smile before walking away. He didn’t know their names, and they didn’t know his. He liked it that way, and figured they did as well.

He kicked his shoes off and collapsed onto his springy twin-sized bed, letting his thoughts linger on the night he’d had. It hadn’t been a difficult one. He had jumped two homeless people roaming the streets. Their greasy and tattered clothing carried a stench that could be smelled from the other side of the block. He’d been able to take one in each hand and smash both of their heads into the brick wall simultaneously. They were too weak to fight back. Blood trickled down the bricks as they were too weak to make a sound, only a mixture of blood and saliva gurgled out of their mouths. He kept smacking their heads against the wall until there was no part of their faces that resembled a human being anymore. All that remained was a pulpy, bloody mess. He tossed them aside like pieces of trash before leaving the alley. He was sure no one saw, and even if they had, no one would miss homeless people. Homeless people were just time-killers for him. They were easy, quick, and kept him from losing control.

Then he’d gone to see her. He’d been watching her for months. Her long blonde curly hair fell over her thin bony shoulders almost melodically. She never seemed to tie her hair up, unless she was in the bathtub, he had noticed. She only took baths on Monday nights after a hard day at her receptionist job, which she seemed to hate. He loved watching her on Monday nights the most. Not because he particularly enjoyed watching her strip her office attire, but because he loved what was underneath. Her torso revealed an asymmetrical crescent shape that ran from the right side of her navel all the way up to the left side of her neck. It was a lovely shade of red, with some brown outlining the spots where it stopped, or had slightly faded over time. The texture seemed to wrinkle a little in the spots where the stain was the most red.

Port-wine birthmarks had always been his weakness, and hers was a sight to behold, especially when she gently scrubbed the makeup away from the spot on her chest. He loved seeing it completely bare. Yes, Mondays were his favorites. He’d stood outside her bathroom window on the third floor. He didn’t mind climbing up to her balcony and perching on the rail to get the perfect view. She had some plants on the balcony, which provided excellent cover if she happened to glance over, but she never did. She seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts, and that was fine by him. He could have watched her all through the night, and sometimes did, but unfortunately she did not sleep naked, so he only really got a good look at it when she bathed. It seemed like a safe bet that she was single. In the weeks he’d been watching her, she’d never had a man over. He assumed it was because of her insecurities about her birthmark. She never wore anything revealing it, and if she did, she always covered it with makeup. He always thought it was silly of her.

Some nights, however, she walked to a small abandoned warehouse alone. It was out in the middle of nowhere. He followed her in the shadows, but every time she went inside, she made certain that she locked the door behind her. He could never figure out what she did in there, and had never been able to get inside himself, despite his superior lock picking skills. It was a very special kind of lock, and there were no other entrances or exits to the building. There weren’t even any windows. He was curious, but not curious enough to risk getting caught by any cameras the building might have, and he wasn’t ready to kill her yet, but her occasional walks to the warehouse would be the prime opportunity.

But that, night he had watched her from the moment she got home and had dinner, which had been a box of salad and grilled chicken takeout from some hipster restaurant. She never seemed to eat anything else. She was pretty thin, which meant it wouldn’t be difficult for him to lift her if he needed to. She was clumsy, forgetful, and didn’t always lock her balcony door after watering the plants she kept. He hadn’t seen any reason to slip inside, however. Not just yet, anyway. Everything about her made her the perfect target, but he was taking his time. Enjoying the hunt, savoring the scent of his prey. The time would come soon, however, and he couldn’t allow himself to hesitate or become attached in any way. He thought about all of these things until he rolled over onto his stomach and fell asleep to the sounds of silence, and the almost inaudible hum of the building’s inner-workings.

He awoke to his phone alarm vibrating. It never took very much to wake him up, which he also considered a valuable trait. He tossed his dirty laundry to the floor and changed into his work uniform. Khakis and a red polo shirt with ‘Grocery Mart’ embossed in white. He tucked his name tag into his pocket and took his time brushing his teeth and combing his neat dark brown hair. It never required very much attention, and he liked it that way. It meant he had to make less decisions. He rubbed his chin and contemplated shaving, but changed his mind. It wasn’t that bad. He checked the time on his phone habitually, but he knew he wouldn’t be late. He never was. He tied the laces of his plain black shoes and locked his apartment door, double checking it as always.

He walked down the hallway, passing a mother child duo that he didn’t know. He gave them a casual nod as he exited the building and walked down the street to his bus stop. There was never more than a handful of people waiting, as it was not a particularly busy stop, and it was usually the same people every day: a short Asian girl with a bob cut, an elderly couple always dressed in church attire, a chubby guy who always seemed to be smoking, and a young boy who was probably far too young to be wandering the streets on his own. No one ever said a word to each other, they were all just preoccupied with their own thoughts or, in the Asian girl’s case, a cell phone.

When the bus finally came, they entered in orderly fashion. At this time of day, there were always seats available, and no one ever really had to stand. He had come to prefer it though. It made him feel ready, as if he could somehow avoid being injured in the case of a collision just because he was standing. The bus stopped twice before he got off at his workplace. He clipped his name tag onto his polo shirt and forced a smile before entering the building.

His coworkers weren’t terribly interesting people to begin with, so he minded his own business, but always complied when necessary. He was just talkative enough with his co workers to avoid confrontation, and just nice enough to customers to not get fired. He considered himself more friendly to customers than his co workers. Most people just wanted to pay for their groceries and leave, and if someone happened to get too chatty, he would kindly ask them not to hold up the line, and they typically took the hint. He never really paid much attention to their faces unless something, such as a port-wine stain, caught his attention. It had been how he’d found the blonde lady. She had been sweating that day due to the weather and the makeup that normally would have covered the scar on her neck was just visible enough. It was difficult for him to maintain his laid-back persona when he noticed. She didn’t notice the change in his eyes, or how he slowly he rung up her items. She didn’t even notice him as he followed her out the door, after quickly telling his manager he had a family emergency and had to leave immediately.

She came by the grocery store on her days off, Tuesday and Saturday. Every time she walked down the isle with a basket, he always got a bit nervous, unsure how he might react if she came to his register, but after the first time she hadn’t since. So when she actually did come to his register that day, he froze. An