CHAPTER 3
The campground and RV park was empty except for the caretaker and Michael.Just as he had expected. He had the pool and the place to all to himself. Chokoloskee was just a little bit down the road if he needed or wanted anything.
Four years ago, Michaels grandparents had passed away. One at a time only weeks apart. Michael being the only living relative and heir, had inherited the school bus that his grandpa had converted into an elaborate RV camper.
Michael loaded it up with crucial supplies, books, booze, snack food , weed, guitars, his full ren-festival gear, Chainmail, Helm, Longsword, Tomahawks and several pole arms spears, Lochaber axes, a Naginata. Appropriate clothing, boots. After some serious consideration he stowed his firearms as well. Michael had an extensively decent selection.
Michaels grandfather, an accomplished carpenter had built secret, hidden gun cases throughout the old bus. Michael had never taken his grandfathers guns out of the r.v. after checking on them when he took possession. Between his and his grandfathers collection, Michael was literally equiped for anything that crawled, slithered, flew, walked or ran anywhere in North America. Of course now, Michael did not need any of that to be able to take anything that walked, flew, crawled or slithered. If anything the Polar bears and Grizzlies best stay out of his way now.
Michael hooked up his beat up 4x4 Suzuki Samurai behind the bus, towing it along as he left Naples behind.
This was actually the first time he had gone anywhere in the bus, without his grandparents. The last time had been when he was fourteen years old and they had gone to the family reunion up in north Florida. Right near the Florida Georgia line. It seemed a little strange to be driving it by himself now.
Just under two and a half hours and he had arrived at the campground. Michael checked in, paying for two months on a pull thru space with all of the amenities. There was a public bathroom and shower next to the pool. That was helpful because he had no idea how to drain the waste tank on the bus. Michael settled in, plugged in a favorite dvd and kicked back.
He soon discovered that the everglades at night, were just as noisy as the city had been. Only, here it was birds, insects, gators and frogs all singing all night. The well water smelled of sulfur, which made him slightly queasy. With that as his only complaint, it was still much better than the city.
Michael discovered a new wonder his first night here. With no light pollution, the skies were spectacular. He could clearly see all the different colors of the stars and planets. Truly like polished gemstones scattered across the night. Looking at the moon with his bare eyes, was as clear, crisp and focussed as it had been with the cheap telescope he had as a kid. Being able to focus and make out the craters and ridges with his naked eyes was another blessing.
There had been quite a few things left in the bus by his grandparents. Grandpas pistol, a .357 revolver, a mossberg 500 shot gun. His Garand from his time in the army. A B.A.R, a World war two German mauser, there was even a Thompson M1a along with several boxes of ammo for each firearm. Michael, like his grandpa, had told no one about them. Leaving them where his grandpa kept them. Inside a compartment hidden as part of a shelf. You would never think it was anything other than an elaborate shelf. Grandpa had been an excellent carpenter. The interior of the bus was beautifully worked oak paneling and wood floor, with black walnut stained custom cabinets. A full kitchen, gas stove and oven, small refrigerator. There was even a generator.
The rear third of the bus had been turned into a bedroom with a full queen bed , closets, door.
He had a bathroom, one of those cramped things that had the toilet and sink both in the small shower. With the mobile satellite internet he had all the comforts of home.
Michael settled down taking brief excursions in his samurai, exploring Chokoloskee and Everglade city.
The need to find Her had not decreased. She haunted his dreams. She was an obsessive vision When he closed his eyes, Michael could see her clearly, walking towards him. He could hear her voice, feel her dark embrace. He simply had no idea where to look. There was the internet though. Thank you Elon Musk and the satellite network for that!
Michael searched chat rooms, social media sites. He read everything he could find on Vampires, which was less than useless. No one had a clue. It was all superstition and fantasy that did not resemble anything of his reality. Except for the whole blood thing. Enhanced senses, were a definite thing. Michael was much stronger, had faster reflexes, fantastic balance. He could move very very fast as well. Everything a top of the food chain apex predator would want or need, and then some.
Sitting, strumming his guitar as he worked on a new song. Michael realized that he now had perfect pitch, he could also modulate his voice up and down the register. Michael had not exactly been a singer before. Now, he could sing in perfect pitch in every range. He would have to buckle down and practice playing his guitar. Michael could hear the slightest error which was seriously irritating and distracting.
It occurred to Michael that once he had learned and adjusted to his new senses, He would be capable of performing any style or range of music. Considering that his only other non violent skillset lay in history and archeology, this could be a real benefit. Learn a skill in the army they said, it will give you a skill in civilian life. Yeah, exactly how does jumping out of perfectly functional air craft to pay surprise visits to people distinctly unhappy with your presence translate to civilian life? Two hitches saving every penny he could plus the GI bill, paid for four years of college. In fact, he still had a bit he’d saved plus a little nest egg his grandparents had left him. Seems that being disciplined and being an only child had paid off.
Michael had enough funds to stay at this campground through the summer. After that he would have to find a source of income or he would quickly run out of funds. He refused to touch that nest egg unless it were of critical need.
With his new abilities he was sure he could do well with just busking when the tourist season arrived. Naples was a short drive up the coast, with Ft Myers and Sarasota easily driven to as well.
Now, to figure out what he had become. Maybe he should have been scared out of his wits but Michael had never been one to panic easily. His stint in the Army had cured him of that. Patrolling in central Africa and the Balkans had broken him of the whole panic/stress syndrome. No one trying to blow up or shoot him, no angry people with guns distinctly unpleased with his presence waiting to greet him once he landed
Jumping out of a perfectly functional aircraft that is not on fire over enemy territory while they are doing their dead level best to take you out while you are descending is never a good idea. It was exciting though. Night jumps were thoroughly nerve wracking. Tracers are blazingly clear in the dark. You hardly notice them in daylight.
Another fun point was that it is hard to gauge your altitude at night, so the ground could sometimes just reach up and smack you unexpectedly. Yeah, walking through places where genocide was the goal and the people were pursuing that goal with a serious commitment helped put life in perspective.
After experiencing and surviving that world, there was little to nothing that rattled Michael anymore. One might say, his rattle had been broken and thrown away. Living in nightmares can really put things in perspective. We dream of fairytales while living in a world built from nightmares. Nothing is permanent, everything changes, everything degrades and falls apart. Entropy is the only thing that is guaranteed in existence. Michael had learned that cold fact the hard way.
While pondering these things, Michael began strumming on his guitar. His grandmother used to say that if wishes were horses then beggars would ride. Hah that tired old maxim started an ear worm. A song playing in his head.
Michael began playing Wishes an old John Butcher Axis song.
Ending the riff abruptly with the last word, Michael nodded to himself. Yes, this was doable. He was going to need to move around, be on the down low. Who knew how many bodies would pile up around him. That would definitely draw the wrong attention. Maybe he should buy a boat. Living on a sail boat would be cool. It would make disposing his food wrappers much easier. Like that forensic examiner / serial killer on that t.v. show.
Bouncing around, busking, doin small dive gigs, Ren faires, living in the bus. Yes, this was doable until he knew more. Until he could form a better long term plan. For now it would keep him on the move and enable his search.
She was out there somewhere. He would find her.