VAMPIRE, TOMAS, DOESN'T LIKE PLAYING STOOGE... 11/8/13

Then it started. They dragged the victim into the concrete, circular pit. He looked around, trembled, scanned the galleries and sat down with his back against the wall. Must have been cold being all bare and all. Eerie silence. no one said a word. The guy in the pit hugged his knees and slowly rocked from side to side. 

While he's rocking, let me give you a few details. The pit is shaped like the inside of a big can... maybe twenty feet deep and fifteen feet across. Three tiers of flip-down stadium seats go 'round the top, with twenty one per row, plus three narrow aisles (with concrete steps) leading down. Industrial fixtures bathe all in a weak, dull glow. The audience, made up of Anti-Enchantment Bureau scientists, functionaries and personnel, including a few guests, such as the two filmmaker kids sits politely. Chimes sound... not too loud. Just right. Tiers go dark. An ever so slightly flickering, focused beam lights the pit. 

Tomas enters wearing that black, leather Speedo thing they insist upon. Some bureau hair stylist has really done a number on his long, wavy hair, but he's vain, so that part he likes. The victim sees, but pretends not to notice (denial). Rocking stops. Tomas never looks up into the stands, approaches the 'prisoner' and lifts him up, one hand under each arm. At first the man just hangs there, but then instinct takes over. He kicks, thrashes about and yells - No! No! No! Tomas plays cat, lets him loose and stands back, as the pathetic victim tries to scale the walls. This goes on for a while, til the vampire slaps him down. The man tries again. Tomas slaps harder. The victim contracts into a fetal position and sobs. Tomas sits down next to him and strokes his body sympathetically. The man shudders. Then the vampires pries away an arm, raises it to his mouth and slowly 'tastes' the fingers. The sobs grow louder. The man trembles uncontrollably. Tomas goes - Shhh... shhh... shhh... Then he draws the first two fingers of the right hand into his mouth and quickly bites them off. A few of the witnesses groan and cringe at the sudden 'SNAP' of the bones. But the victim is silent, though he shakes as if fueled by high powered lithium batteries. (you've seen those little toys for sale on street corners. you know what I mean). Then he forcefully takes hold of the victim's shoulders, rolls him over on his back, straddles his belly and with two rapid, focused exhalations shoots each into an assigned eyeball blinding the man on the spot. It's as if the guy gouged out his eyes with his own two fingers. He bucks. He groans. He screams. Blood is everywhere. Tomas is a vampire, after all. He ignores all external stimulation, as he rips and bites and feasts. But just as it's over, seconds before the viscous mess ignites into 'cold' blue flames and disappears, some idiotic cretin up above cheers and whistles, breaking the vampire's drugged stupor and drawing his undivided attention.

No one so much as breathes, even Doctor Franklin, as the cat-like life-eater (p.c. term for vampire) vaults up passed the rail and makes another kill. 

Tomas has principles, after all. He hates pandering to this crowd. And the inescapable rule is NEVER take pleasure in a vampire's kill.

The one in the stands had it coming...

Pity his neighbors got splattered with gore...

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BILLY KRAVITZ IS DELIRIOUSLY IN NEED OF SLEEP.. VAMPIRE , TOMAS, TAKES OVER ... 11/7/13

Greetings, oh best beloveds. The one who blogs our tale slumbers in restorative manner under old vampirino potion. It was necessary. He enables our 'truth' every night and was most egregiously in need of rest.

Please take this time to scroll back to the early days and wander through my vampiric nativity, or anywhere else you may so desire. Click the little tecla (I mean button) on this portal (I mean 'link') ~> BACK TO THE PAST ... 

Muchas gracias, sus amigo encantada,

Tomas de Macabea

y una cosa mas... leave a comment down below and I, Tomas (not Billy) will personally answer.... 

LIKE A SCENE OUT OF ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW but with BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 11/6/13

You know those scenes in THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW where the mad scientist, twisted VICTORIA'S SECRET model played by Tim Curry does his 'thing' in that laboratory surrounded by all his tre 70's pseudo Andy Warhol-ish chorus people? Well, this execution was a lot like that. 


For the past two or three years we've given you the sanitized side of PHILADELPHIA AFTER DARK. Yes, there were hints at something else... Little Bastid Annie used to bite the toes off unsuspecting sleepers.... Resident ghoul, JOHNNY JUMP UP (victim of a premature burial) dragged a few squirming tid-bits up to the roof tops where he 'motor boated' his way into their blood rich, glistening, viscera packed abdominal cavity. The guy likes offal. What can we say? Paranormal folks tend to get that way. They have power. They have magic. They have hunger. They have drives.... a 'night buffet' that never ends...... You know, that'd be a good name for a horror movie...NIGHT BUFFET!! Quick, somebody text @eliroth ... But now back to 'the compound'.....

Functionaries ushered everyone into the galleries. Those in the first tier were issued plastic ponchos, should any errant bits of gore or tissue splash up that high. A few smoked medicinal marijuana to calm their stomachs, but some of the old timers who were used to these things munched left over Halloween candy. I mean it's a human body, right? Just science. That's all.

The two movie making kids sat up higher. It's not good for newcomers to sit down stream once the barfing starts. No matter what, there's always a few of them in the crown and some retching sons a bitches lose all sense of consideration when the churning starts.

Tomas wasn't with them. He was downstairs getting ready. And believe me, this part he hated. They had a woman who coordinated these events and she had a lurid sense of design.... all black leather and black rubber. Gave Tomas this little speedo thing. I don't know who made it. I'm just calling it 'speedo.' All black leather. Then she braided his hair like a late Georgian dandy. Powdered him up a little bit too, to accentuate the whiteness of his skin. Wanted to put some dusky smudges 'round his eyes, but he told her to 'go to hell.'  This wasn't the first time he was part of one a these shows you know. His costar was easier to dress, 'cause he got nothing, save a light dusting of pink powder to highlight his blood-filled body. You know, they used to costume victims in all them old Roman death shows too. Even gave 'em lines to say before they cued the lions. Everybody wants to direct.

Tomas had this thing. He didn't make it up. They told him to do it. God, the things people believe about vampires, his kind of vampire, would make you sick. He complained to Doctor Franklin, but the old reprobate, used to proto Grand Guignol (think German Impressionist early twentieth century cinema, though bloodier) productions in the salons and jewel-box-like theaters of eighteenth century Paris, tut-tutted his concerns. He wanted a good show too. 

So our reluctant, vampirino star had to bite off the fingers of the other guy, (at least two of them - one at a time) crunch right through the bone, hold it between his teeth like a knuckled asparagus stalk and hock it right  into the victim's eye. You know, vampires can do that with a lot of force. Worse than a bee-bee gun he was. Stuck out a them gushin' sockets like bug antennas. Guys screamed. They'd plead. But by that point the blood lust was all whipped up and there was no stopping him...

I'd channel more now, but I have to get up early tomorrow. Edith, the witchy-woman 'housekeeper' here at the townhouse wants me to drive her over the bridge into Jersey, so she can go to Wegman's. Who's she cookin' for? Hardly any humans in this place. But... that's the way it is.

Maybe some of her 'Piney' friends comin' over, or like a few a the 'Red Paint People?'

You gotta google them Red Paint People. I'm telling you. They are something else. You'll see...

Fiction, this is not.

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DOCTOR FRANKLIN and the VAMPIRE KNOWN AS TOMAS tell SECRETS to YOUNG FILMMAKERS ... 11/5/13

After the old reprobate came down from his apparatus, he put on one of his usual outfits, namely a deep green, Philadelphia Eagles sweat suit and some sort of sneakers. I suppose he wore some sort of socks too, but knowing Doctor Franklin, I cannot vouch for underwear.  Then he and his guests went into The Quarters, a special residence, updated over the centuries, where the venerable scientist holds court. It's an expansive, commodious space, decorated like a Pennsylvania country house, circa seventeen eighty or so... rich, but not showy. Indeed, old money Philadelphians still ape that style.  And although underground, every room had windows featuring computer generated views appropriate for to the time ( late colonial-federalist). Fine, black phaetons passed down the lane drawn by matched pairs of superior horseflesh. Gleeful lads splashed in a pond across the way. Pheasants strolled about the carefully rolled lawn. Tomas was used to all this, but the young filmmakers were not and downed their vintage madeira  rather quickly. 

The doctor explained quantum harmonics to them, a science based on his work , beginning with the first armonica all those years ago. Back then it was a musical device... crystalline discs all in a row, suspended on a long, thin, copper rod and tuned like a harp. Each one freely rotated, kept moist by a shallow pan of water running the length of the contraption and suspended down below. But over the years the thing made more than music. Complex chords and combinations there of effected things. Dried houseplants revived. Dead flies gathering dust on a sill absorbed vapors from the ether and lived again. Upon further investigation, the scientist-statesman formulated a table... a chart, detailing each discreet harmonic and it's properties, rather like Mendeleev's Periodic Table of the Elements. Certain formula were beneficial to humans, preserving them indefinitely via a break down of any oxidizing elements and other such destructive substances. Now the tones were all on computer, but two or three actual armonicas of various sizes were still kept simply because the doctor liked them. Others bathed in the sound web too, though few achieved the near immortality of it's inventor. Three hundred and ten years he was, or there abouts. Though upon close inspection not more than perhaps eighty... Some said seventy six. He and the vampire had been fast friends since well before The Revolution. They studied all manner of unusual beings in the compound, night-folk being but one variety. Mer-folk, yetis and a Jersey Devil or two also called the Bureau home. Though none were prisoners and permitted to leave should they so desire. Indeed, the salt water filled mer-folk tubes and channels were quite beautiful. 

But Tomas' actions concerning the young filmmakers were fast and instinctive. He wanted to save them. Now they're here and they have questions....

The vampire explained ...  Spies are everywhere- he said.... do you think the mafia peters out and ends? No, it does not. No self-serving organization truly does. The snoops and sneak thieves on the perimeter mesh with others of their kind on the opposite shore. In that way secrets become absorbed and known to all manner of adversary. Believe me. The mafia already knows of your film..... The second youth piped up and said - It wasn't a film. It was live feed. We streamed it..... Doesn't matter - sighed the vampire. They know and they will kill you..... Yeah, but they saw what you did to him too. They saw you kill that hit man. They know. They know your a vampire - said the first..... Tomas just sized him up and said - Well, maybe I'll kill you..... The youths pushed back in their chairs..... But Doctor Franklin laughed and Tomas smiled. Though the man on the hundred dollar bill did say they'd stay there til things blew over. Tomas wanted it that way. Vampires dote on certain individuals. To some they're saints. To others monsters. The boys, although they might not realize it now, were in the first group. And they jumped at the chance to don plastic ponchos so they could witness Tomas dispatch a particularly vile sort of evil doer... a serial killer fond of ice picks up the nose. Thrust hard and fast enough and the thin, fine, ivory-like bone at the base of the brain cracks. Ancient Egyptians used a similar method to rid the body of this rapidly decaying tissue. But their 'victims' were dead, whereas this noxious practitioner operated on the living, although they would not be that way for long. Ride the subways he did... late at night.... Often he and his prey were alone, rocking back and forth through the tunnels underground. Do you know how the lights in the cars blink out every once in a while? Well, the killer likes that, quickly switching seats, til perched right by the side of the soon to go bye-bye. Sometimes they'd scream, but so did the wheels upon the cold, steel track, so that didn't matter. He'd grab them in the dark, twist the head, the better to aim his tool and thrust home. Legs would twitch... eyes roll back... mouths spew foam... not too much, but enough... and it would be done. Shhh, here comes the stop. The killer departs, silently blending with the night, while his gruesome companion rides on, til discovered by some unfortunate soul. The mole-folk found him. The killer,I mean... and brought him here. Tomas does not usually dine this often. Vampires are like snakes in that regard. But tonight he's executioner and eager to make the sacrifice. 

They'll do it in one of the deep, cement chambers, like surgical theaters in a very strange hospital. And the boys have the option of watching 'from the bench.' 

One seems eager, the other not so much... Tomorrow we'll see how it goes. While up above and quite close by an early rush hour starts in the pre-dawn darkness. Cars speed through the sharp, cold night, streaming toward the city on 'I-95.'... A mundane world for mundane people.

But you, my friends, who visit here know better...

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MEANWHILE BACK AT THE ANTI-ENCHANTMENT BUREAU .... 11/4/13

I don't know how the drivers do it. I think they have a way to triangulate positions. Tomas has a chip too. I forgot about that. He forgot about it too. A lot of vampires have chips. Some luddites among them know nothing of technology, preferring to wallow in the primitive realities of their past. They keep to the shadows, make bug eyes at buxom damsels and sleep in specially made 'dead boxes.' Like Dracula. That's what they are. Not the new one they got on TV. He's just a rehash of our own (and presently missing) dashing Muscovite-oligarch- vampire known as Grigori Usipov. Regular readers know that. No, I'm talking about the real Dracula... the one Bram Stoker wrote about. And let me tell you something else (a digression, but bear with me). The first draft of that 'novel' was penned here in Philadelphia while the esteemed author played house guest to the prominent Rosenbach family. Their vast, Center City, townhouse mansion has since become a rarefied shrine... a museum... brimming with unusual treasures and quasi-miraculous what-nots. You can see the hand written 'fictional' account there, within the pages of a large, pale green, late Victorian ledger.  Well, researchers can see it. They have a room for such things... a small space, with hardwood floors, Persian carpets, heavy draperies, second empire moldings and a large, polished library table. Oh, did I mention the fine, old, tall clock? Tick, tick, tick it goes. And the soft, rich chimes are so mellow. Some say the book is cursed. Some refuse to touch it. Others are less fearful. Some of them are dead. For what appears there upon those pages is not the same as what was published. Secrets flicker there. And our own Tomas keeps even more within the vellum pages of his also hand written (though not by him) copy of La Ciencia Vampirismo. We've referenced that tome from time to time, but best to leave it alone, for the magic within (if magic is the right term for it) details more than just life-eaters.. Indeed, the vampires we speak of may be but one manifestation, one facet of 'the dark jewel.'

Whew! Some digression, eh?

The car arrived. More like a luxury S.U.V., if you will and the the two young filmmakers, plus their vampire savior got in. The driver, a well trained functionary of 'the bureau' said not a word, as he ferried them out of the woods and down a highway into the city. How it sparkled at night. Dense, thickets of towers all alight, as charwomen and char-men too, I suppose, moved about the august offices preparing them for a bright, new day. Dulcet jazz tones filled the cab all the way down the great length of Market Street, 'crossed the Schuylkill (school-kill) River and on into midtown, passed the huge, illuminated, wedding cake spouse (the city hall and not a copy, for both were built 'round the same time) of the Hotel de Ville in Paris. They cruised by the convention center and the nineteenth century cavern that is The Reading Terminal Market Place and larder to the knowing gourmands of this place. Last comes the Historic Heart, America's Vatican, or The Tower of London, if you will. What splendid ghosts 'live' there. Then the N.C.D. (night club district) where twenty-somethings overpay for table service and well heeled tourists dine in establishments known to Jefferson. 

In case you're wondering, wilkravitz the one they call Billy narrates tonight. Usually I just type, but our disembodied helpers are somewhere else, so I do double duty. Tomas, the night-folk, 'star' of our tale, loves his adopted city, thus the travel log, in case you wanted to know. 

Doctor Franklin's underground compound lies at the edge of the city, just passed the tight little red brick streets of South Philadelphia, home to cheese steaks, trattoria and the immortal Ninth Street Market where Rocky trained... The hidden resource is accessed via nondescript tunnels scattered about The Navy Yard. They pulled into a clean, low-lit parking garage and got out. Two agents, rather Men In Black and mysterious, led them through a thick, metal door and into the storied corridors. After a time they heard, or rather felt a sonorous hum, like music from talented whales, or well schooled 'spheres.' A portal opened and they were there... the hall of The Great Armonica, as Doctor Franklin (Benjamin Franklin, if you will) hung naked and suspended within a spider web of magnetic 'music,' as his greatest invention bathed his aged, though well preserved body in carefully regulated pulses of restorative energy. 

He spotted Tomas and waved. The vampire waved back. Then he and the two young filmmakers sat down at a table and read magazines ( I think a couple old Crate and Barrel catalogs... maybe a Readers' Digest... a People) til their unusual host was through..

The newly minted filmmakers, needless to say, were thoroughly impressed.

Next time I'll tell you more...

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THE WORLD WE SEE and THE WORLD THAT IS.... a vampire talks... 11/3/13

Tomas yelled - Son of a bitch! I must get involved in this crap? You, up in the tree, GET DOWN HERE!..... And the other kid who was still up there goes - No, please. Please, no. I'm comin'. I'm comin'. I can't go no faster. I'm carryin' something...... The first kid, already down on the ground and trying to make points goes - He means the camera..... Tomas shoots him a look. He knows. 

Tomas stands under the struggling second kid and goes - You stupid bastard, you! Drop the camera!..... The second kid hesitates. Tomas yells - DROP IT!..... Kid whines - I don't want it to break. It ain't ours. We borrowed it...... Tomas. growing ever more impatient, goes - Do you think that I, with my one thousand years of preternatural existence and coordination like you cannot imagine will fail to catch it!?....
Second kid whines some more, but finally lets go..... The large, professional grade video camera falls.... And Tomas is right under it. He could easily catch it. But at the last instant he side steps and lets it bounce on a rock. Parts fly everywhere. The camera is digitally dead...... The first kid, huddled on the ground winces. The second kid stops where he is and goes - Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God..... Then he starts crying. We can hear him. It's pathetic...... Tomas' unseen ghost companion whispers - Kill 'em. Kill 'em. Kill 'em good.... But our vampire hero shakes him off like a mosquito and the kids never heard him at all. 

First kid (with tears streaming down his face) goes - You're gonna kill us, aren't you?..... Tomas goes - No, I said I would not kill you and I won't..... Kid still in the tree goes - You lied about the camera. You lied about that!... And they both cry louder...... The unseen ghost companion starts giggling. Tomas bats him away like a troublesome fly... snaps a kink in his neck, looks at the shattered camera and goes - I just saved your lives. Do they still have brown, shiny ribbon in these things?..... Kid in the tree goes - What?... Kid on ground goes - He means tape, video tape.... Kid in tree goes - What? No! no tape..... Tomas goes - Then how do you record it?..... The kid on the ground hesitantly raises his eyes and says - We don't record it. We stream it live..... Tomas goes - What does that mean?..... Kid in the tree goes - You don't want to know..... Then he ads - Is the mafia gonna kill us?.... Tomas goes - What do you think?.... Then he mumbles something in classical Castilian, or perhaps old Vahmperigo (vampire Romance dialect) ... Second kid quietly reaches the ground and huddles next to his buddy..... Tomas thinks for a moment and says - Yo, Coen Brothers, one of you got a cell phone?.... Second kid sniffs and goes - H-how you know about th-them?... Tomas goes - I live in Center City, in Society Hill, not far from Ritz Movies. You know it? ... The two artistes silently nod.... Tomas goes - So don't ask. Now, who got the phone?.... First kid pulls one out. Tomas gestures. He hands it over. Tomas taps out the number for Doctor Franklin's vast, secret, underground complex beneath the Philadelphia Navy Yard.... Second kid goes - W-who you callin'? Not the mafia? Not them?.... Tomas goes - Yeah, every vampire knows that number by heart. You stupid bastards you..... First kid goes - Then who are you calling?..... The vampire goes - A very esteemed alchemist, I mean 'scientist' and philosopher, Doctor Benjamin Franklin. Ever heard of him?.... Second kid goes - You mean the fat, old colonial guy who diddled all them French women?.... Tomas goes - The same. And he is not a life-eater..... Second kid goes - A what?..... Tomas spits back - A vampire! A vampire! Do I have to speak 'Twilight' talk to you!?... And he mumbles some more old Latin-type phrases, before the old, founding father reprobate answers. They trade a sentence or two. Tomas hangs up, hands back the phone and sits down on the ground with his charges.... A couple dozen heart beats go by. Nobody says anything til the second kid whispers - What are we doing?..... First kid shrugs. Tomas goes - Waiting for a ride..... More silence... Then the trim, Iberian vampirino adds - You think you know the world, but you don't. For the world you see is not the world that is....

And they sit there in the chill, misty woodland night, listening to the slow rhythm of late season crickets...

Second kid goes - I'm cold..... Tomas says - Go sit in the car. (the mafia guy's big, black Chrysler still rests there a few feet away). The kid does..... Tomas sighs.... First kid sighs too, as we leave them there and pull back into the trees... 

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YOUNG MORTAL SPIES WITH PRYING EYES... Tomas meets a stalker 11/2/13

The ghost 'drowned' in molten lead wouldn't tell his name and made jokes about it. Certain fragments of popular culture penetrated his solitude over the centuries. I don't know. Maybe he picks up radio waves. When Tomas asked him, he'd say 'Howdy Doody,' or 'Puff the Magic Dragon,' or 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers.' Last one must be a nineteenth century reference. Sounds 'Flora Dora Girl' and all that.  So Tomas gave him one. A name, I mean. Called him 'Parrot,' 'cause his spiritual presence seemed to hover right by our vampiric hero's left ear. But the ghost what got dunked in molten lead liked Gertie's Dirty Bloomers best. Ghosts is like that.

And in that way they wandered through the woods, parks and forests of Southeastern Pennsylvania, sleeping in old, abandoned root cellars. As you know, vampires, especially the traveling sort positively dote on root cellars and there are many long forgotten ones out there. Tomas would curl up in a deep dark corner and the ghost would tell him stories. Night-folk love old tales. The ghost crooned ancient, Scots drinking songs and Breton madrigals, which were already quite passe by his time. Tomas never stopped him. He liked the company and didn't care one bit. In fact the only time 'Gertie's Dirty Bloomers' was ever quiet was when Tomas 'culled' someone. Then he'd just watch and look and wait. Death was a major event to the tortured spirit and he always treated it reverently.  Loved that moment where the teeth break the skin. Claimed he 'heard' it. The 'cool' blue fire part at the end when the body goes bye-bye unnerved him a bit. I suppose it reminded him of his death, the heat and all... the fires... Look, they call the blue flames 'cool' or 'cold' because nothing else around them ever burns. But they're still fire. It's still flame. Make no mistake about that. 

One night they found a hit man... a real murder for hire, mafia style hit man. You know they love dumping people in the woods. The amoral, satanic 'gentleman' smoked a cigar behind the wheel of his car. A big, black Chrysler, I think it was. The slaughtered party, now rendered into seven or eight, easy transportable plastic wrapped parcels (not from a roll..not like you'd use to seal a salad bowl.. big, thick, garbage bags, I mean) waited in the trunk. I don't know where they were gonna bury him. Who cares? .. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers tried talking to him. The one in the trunk, I mean. But he only spoke Korean and he was scared and still in shock from being diced up and all. You know, them little chain saws they sell for like suburban home owners come in handy for jobs like that. Yeah, you can use 'em for firewood. But they ain't all sold for firewood. Lemme tell you that. Look, you think the guy at Sears don't know?! 

Tomas goes over to the big, black Chrysler, yanks open the door and goes - Yo, schmuck face, get the hell out a the car!... You know he can talk that way when he has to 'cause a livin' in the city and all. Mafia guy goes - Who the hell are you, you 'P.R.' (Puerto Rican) son of a bitch. 'Cause like he can hear some a the Spanish and all. You know sometimes Tomas still sounds that way. They used to joke in the townhouse. Used to say - Lucy, I'm home... But they were family, so he didn't care.... Grabs the mafia guy. Drags him out. Slams him against the car and goes - Lemme tell you who I am.... Then he gives him the 'vampire grin' right then and there. Guy almost shits himself. Fumbles for his gun. Yeah, lot a good that's gonna do him. Two heartbeats later, Tomas chokes the guy, turns him around and chokes him some more. Bastid starts kickin' his feet and coughin' and sputterin'. Gertie's Dirty Bloomers likes seein' other guys get tortured, so he don't say nothin'. Then we get the big finale. Whoa! Do we ever.  Vampire tilts back his head, slams it down, drives the fangs right through the skull and draws out the blood directly from the brain. Guy's eyes go all jerky-like. Starts fartin'. Starts shitin'.  But he's mostly dead. Few heartbeats more and he's all dead. Tomas drops him, catches his breath (not that he needs the oxygen, but they still inhale and exhale, you know) and belches like grandpop at a barbecue. Then he kicks the body away from the car, slumps in the driver's seat and watches it burn. When it's over he looks up in the trees. Most a the leaves is down, but not all, and says - You can come down now..... Kid's voice goes - I don't wanna..... Tomas goes - Why?.... Kid's voice goes - 'Cause I'm scared.... Tomas goes - What for?... Kid goes - 'Cause I'm scared you're gonna get me..... Tomas goes - I'm not gonna get you. Are you a low-life?... Kid goes - N-no.... Tomas goes - Well, I'm not gonna get you...... But nothing.... Then he goes WHOOSH and sublimates up through the air, hovering maybe three feet in front a the kid and goes - I'd get you now, if I was gonna get you. But I'm not gonna get you, so get down.... Kid's really shaken, but he makes it down. Young, maybe like a year or two less than Tomas when they 'turned' him. Stands there with his hands in his pockets, still shakin' and all. Tomas goes - Take them God damn hands out a your pockets!..... Kid does.... Tomas goes - Now why you here?

Kid tells him.... But the other one, the one that's still up in a tree, the one who masked his scent (somebody must a helped him) is still runnin' the camera...

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